


Finding Junior

by Heza



Series: Curiosity [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: But I don't care, F/M, Gen, I realize the timeline between season 5 and 6 is much smaller than this, I'mma try to make this a slow burn yall. Let's see if I can do it lol, Tucker's POV, this is my AU I'll fuck the timeline if I so please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heza/pseuds/Heza
Summary: Lavernius Tucker, along with his friend Elizabeth "Bethli" Maranta, had been scouring the galaxy on a mission to find and rescue his son from being used in a plot to control the Sangheili peoples. After two long years, he's getting close, and he can't shake the growing dread that Junior won't who he is.
Relationships: Tucker x OC Elizabeth Maranta
Series: Curiosity [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/636389
Comments: 12
Kudos: 10





	1. Vern and Bait

**Author's Note:**

> AND SO IT BEGINS! I started this back on March 1st... And then less than two weeks later the lockdown hit.  
> Now you might be thinking, Heza, wouldn't you have more time to write now?  
> The thing is, I wrote on the bus to and from work. It's been really hard making a new writing habit! Plus, world is scary yo and my anxiety a fragile thing.  
> But hopefully this gets the bus rolling!  
> I'm not going to say I'm *definitely* going to update once a week, but it's my goal not to go too long between updates. Cross your fingers for me!
> 
> Enjoy Tucker and Maranta's rescue mission! :D
> 
> PS. Since it's Swiss/German based and not English, Maranta's nickname "Bethli" is pronounced without the TH sound. It's more like Beht-lee, hence her codename of Bait. :P

“Hey, Lavernius?” Maranta poked her head out from the washroom, her long wet hair cascading down around her shoulders. “You any good with a pair of scissors and some clippers?”

Tucker didn’t bother to give Maranta more than a glance, snorting and returning to his book. It was a ratty, ancient thing that he had found in the bargain bin at an old bookstore. He wasn’t normally a fantasy reader kind of guy, but Maranta swore up and down that it was good. So far, he had been enjoying it.

He lazily flipped the page. “Do I look like a barber to you?”

Maranta scowled. “No need to sass me,” she said, limping back inside the washroom. “I just don’t want to look like a fool…”

“You _could_ just go to a hairdresser in town.” As Tucker had already suggested countless times before.

“No way!” Maranta called out over the sound of running water. “Did you see the prices they were charging? Not to mention that one that tried to talk me out of the cut I wanted.”

Oh right, Tucker remember that. Closest he had ever seen Maranta to punching a total stranger. “Well it sounds like you better get snipping,” he replied oh so helpfully.

He heard Maranta sigh, but as she gave no rebuttal Tucker returned to reading. The main character was learning how to use his innate magic to turn light into various colours of solid or liquid substance. The kid was an absolute loser, but Tucker found himself cheering him on all the same.

There was a sudden, sharp gasp. “Oohh no,” Maranta groaned.

“Too late to change your mind now,” Tucker reminded her with a snicker.

“Stop with the running commentary already,” Maranta snapped. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and go see if there’s anything worth looking into in the job market.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, but she had a point. They _were_ low in cash. Marking his place, Tucker sat up in his bed and set the book aside.

The ship which they had lived in for the last two years was cramped, but they made it work. It only had one main living area, a small offshoot from that for a bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchen. _Lucidity_ was their home. The name had been Maranta’s idea.

Tucker crossed from the cramped bedroom into the tiny living room to the desk where their laptops were stored. Pushing Maranta’s sticker covered abomination aside, he pulled his own in front of him and plopped down in the chair. His had only a single silly cat sticker that Maranta had insisted on slapping on. He’d never admit it to her, but the little orange cat with its head stuck in a box had grown on him. Closing the notes and documents he had open on sangheili languages, Tucker reconnected to the shipyard’s wifi. It wasn’t the fastest, but it worked. Sort of.

As the sound of clippers came from the bathroom, Tucker browsed the usual sites, forums, and social media that he and Maranta found the kind of work they did, head propped up with his hand. They might have been soldiers turned mercenaries, but they still had morals. Maranta had been very insistent on that and Tucker was perfectly happy to oblige.

“No… maybe…” Tucker muttered to himself as he clicked through. “Not enough pay for that… Suspiciously too _much_ pay for _that._ ” Most of it was trash in his opinion, or would bring too much of the wrong kind of attention to themselves. The best jobs would have opportunities to find information on their real goal, tracking down Flowers and Wyoming.

Tucker clenched his hand into a fist. They had found a little information on Junior’s whereabouts, but they always seemed to be ten steps behind his captors. They knew that the Pelican had crashed, and that both Tex and Omega had gone missing. Project Freelancer was doing a hell of a job covering that up. Without Omega, the plan to brainwash Junior was defunct, but as far as they could tell, Junior was still their captive.

Maranta worried for Tex, but Tucker found it hard to care. Tex was a total badass, and worrying about her wasn’t going to help him find Junior.

When Tucker had narrowed it down to five possible jobs, Maranta emerged from the bathroom. “Okay, be honest,” she asked, standing a few feet behind him, “how bad is it?”

Tucker spun the chair around, mouth open, ready to tease and reassure her, but the words died on his lips. He had been expecting Maranta to return to the pixie cut she had sported back in Blood Gulch, but she had gone _dramatic_. One side of her head was shaved down to peach fuzz, and the other had long hair, falling just above her shoulder. It was far from perfect… but it suited her.

Maranta took his silence for negativity, immediately fussing. “Great, I knew this was an awful idea.” She gripped her long hair in her hand, tugging. “I should just shave all this off—“

“Wow, slow down Bethli!” Tucker laughed. “It’s fine. A little uneven, but fine.”

Maranta paused, running her hands through her hair. “You sure?”

Tucker rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yes, I promise. Look, let’s pick out a job, and then I’ll help you even it out.”

Maranta relaxed, nodding. “I’d appreciate that thank you.” She walked up behind him, putting a hand on the back of the chair and leaning over his shoulder. “Did you find anything good?”

Tucker pointed to his list of the most promising five jobs. “They’re alright.”

“Hmm…” Maranta scanned over them, eyes flittering back and forth as she read down the list. “Ooh, I like this one,” she pointed, stopping just shy of the screen. “Helping the town after a major flood they had? It’s close to the last known location of Wyoming and Flowers. And it’s a good cause. I like a good cause.”

“Yeah, but our gas tank doesn’t,” Tucker reminded her, rapping his knuckles against the wall of the ship. “It’s got a good chance for info, but it’s pretty much a pro-bono job.”

Maranta drummed her fingers along the back of the chair. “Well, could we swing two jobs? That security detail will take us to a city not far from the town that needs help.”

Tucker read over the information he had for that. “We could, yeah. Smart idea.”

Maranta smiled smugly at him. “I’ve been known to have em. Help me with my hair, and then we’ll go out for supplies.”

——

By mid-afternoon, the bustling street market was full of vendors hawking their wares, making it a slog to push through, and Maranta was constantly getting distracted by whatever shiny thing was pushed in her face. More than once, Tucker had had to remind her that they were out for necessities, not fineries. As they passed a food cart with the aromas of the local cuisine wafting into the air, Maranta followed it first with her eyes, then her entire head as she tried to keep it in view. Whatever it was, it was heavily spiced, with bright vegetables cooked in some sort of curry.

“I know we’re on a tight budget here,” she said as she tore her head away to look at Tucker, “but I think we should get a bite to eat, you know, before we’re stuck eating MREs and space food again.”

Tucker snorted. She was practically drooling! “I ain’t gunna say no to that, but speaking of shitty food, how are we doing on spices and all that?” Maranta’s cooking had done a good job on keeping them both sane on this journey. One could only eat so many plain MREs and freeze dried food without losing it. 

“We could probably use more black pepper, and red chilli flakes,” Maranta mused, pulling a tiny notebook from her skirt pocket and jotting that down. “If we get the stuff for it, I could probably make us vodka penne before we go off world?”

“Oh fuck yeah, let’s do that!” Maranta had only made the dish once before, but it had been an instant favourite of Tucker’s.Gotta love a recipe that started with melting a cup of butter. 

Luckily, as much of a mish-mash of items as their list was, the space port town made it easy for them to find it all, most of it legally as well. It was full of colourful faces, all coming and going, and wonderfully absent of UNSC forces. They were AWOL after all, and Tucker didn’t fancy getting caught and punished for it. Though if Maranta kept stopping to window shop, it’d be well after nightfall by the time they returned to _Lucidity_!

“Oh my _god_ ," Maranta's hand shot out to grip Tucker's forearm. “Lavernius, she's selling a skirt with suspenders. And it’s _olive drab_!”

Tucker shook his arm free. "Didn't we just establish that we're on a tight budget?” He never would have guessed Maranta to be as into clothing as she was when they met in Blood Gulch, but he wasn't complaining. Maranta was cute, even damn hot, when she dolled up. And, perhaps more importantly, she really enjoyed herself when she did, and seeing her having a good time, strangely, would brighten Tucker’s mood too.

“I know, I know, I'm not going to get it,” she sighed wistfully. “But imagine how nice it’d look on me.”

With Maranta too busy staring at the skirt, and Tucker too busy looking at her, neither noticed the walking wall of a man round the corner until Maranta had collided with his chest!

“Oh!” She bounced back and looked way up at him. "Sorry, my fault!”

The man had dark skin, with a distinctive scar criss crossing his face, and was easily twice her size. A shorter man, with almost knife sharp features, stood beside him, glaring. But the walking mountain didn't seem fazed. “It's fine,” he rumbled, side stepping her.

Tucker thought he caught the other man openly leering at Maranta, and he fought the urge to put a protective arm around her shoulders. Luckily, the incident ended there, and by the time they reached the first stop on their list it was forgotten.

Just as the sun began to dip towards the horizon, Tucker’s phone pinged, alerting him to an e-mail. One Carling Harner, representing Ms. Galen of Gale Force Electric, had replied to their inquiry into the shipping security job. “Oh shit, that was fast,” Tucker muttered as they walked towards _Lucidity,_ bags of various supplies, and delicious street food, bouncing against his hip.

“What is it?” Maranta sped up a little to walk abreast with him, peering around his arm.

“That train job got back to us,” Tucker explained, turning his phone towards her so she could see. “They want to set up a meeting, tonight, to go over the details.”

“Do we have time to eat?” Maranta pouted slightly, looking into her bag with dinner. “It smells too good to eat re-heated.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t be till after nightfall,” Tucker clarified. “Let’s be quick, though, we’ll want to be armoured up.”

“Gotta make a good first impression,” Maranta agreed. “Does it say anything else?”

“No,” Tucker put his phone back in his pocket. “Guess we’ll cover all that during the meeting.”

Thankful once again that this was a port town and that a couple of armoured up mercs wasn’t an uncommon sight, Tucker and Maranta were back out on the streets as soon as they had finished eating. Twin moons greeted them, but the lights of civilization made the stars all but invisible. The directions in the e-mail lead them to a rundown neighbourhood, with even less police presence than the port proper. From the corner of his eye, Tucker could see Maranta nervously fingering at her pistol, her helmet staring straight ahead.

“Hey, it’s cool,” he encouraged her through a private radio link. “People would have to be idiots to jump a couple of badasses like us.”

Maranta shook her head, hand still hovering by her pistol. “It’s not that,” she explained. “It’s all the secrecy. Extra guns for security seems perfectly legal to me, so why a meeting in a dilapidated building and not like… an office building?”

Tucker frowned. Maranta had a point. “Well _this_ job is legal, but maybe other jobs Gale Force offers aren’t so squeaky clean,” he guessed, shrugging his shoulders. “Or maybe they’re used to hiring thugs who like meeting in disease ridden hotels?”

Maranta snorted. “Either way, we should be careful, and keep our guard up. Be professional and all that.”

“When have I ever not been?” Tucker asked, faking hurt.

She briefly glanced over her shoulder at him, and Tucker could easily picture the blank stare she was giving him. “Remember when your flirting almost cost us _Lucidity_?”

He faltered for a moment, but quickly covered it with a laugh. “Well how was I supposed to know she wasn’t into men? Anyway, this is the place up here.”

Nice save. The perfect segue.

The run down hotel smelled faintly of cigarettes and stale alcohol. Surprisingly for the hour, a young man was stationed behind the reception desk. He was utterly unbothered by two fully armed and armoured individuals walking in through the front door, but Tucker noted that he moved a hand under the desk. Reaching for a gun?

“I take it ya here for Carling?” His voice was thick with the local accent, and it took Tucker a moment to parse what he said. Once he nodded, the man gestured own the hall. “Room 16. They’re expecting ya.”

“Thanks pal.” Tucker gave him a lazy salute. The receptionist merely grunted, returning to whatever was on his computer.

“I am liking this less and less…” Maranta muttered as they walked past a door that looked like it had been kicked in.

“Yeah, well, you and me both,” Tucker muttered back. “But if we want a full gas tank, we can’t turn back now.”

They stopped outside Room 16, and Tucker placed a hand on the knob. With a nod to Maranta, he pushed the door open.

They were greeted by a tall, scarred woman with warm brown hair, glaring down at them. In her hands she carried a large, formidable gun, and though she wasn’t aiming at them, Tucker still took an instinctive step back, hand hovering over the sword on his hip.

“Stand down now Holland,” a seated figure said with that same heavy accent, before anything could come to blows. “This is our potential security.”

A crooked grin broke over Holland’s face. “I know,” she replied cheekily. “I just wanted to scare em a little.” With a final glance over, she stepped back to allow them inside.

The room had been remade into an office of sorts. The beds had been pushed up against the window, and the low, squat dresser fashioned into a desk. “Sorry about my partner,” the figure behind the desk said as Holland shut the door behind Tucker and Maranta. “She’s here to provide back up. Vern and Bait, I assume?”

“That’s right,” Tucker said in response to their code names. “And you must be Carling.”

Carling nodded. They were shorter than Holland, though not by much, and just as muscular. “I am.”

Tucker gestured around the room with his free hand, keeping the other on the handle of his sword. “So what’s with all this? Job seemed pretty legal when I read it over, but this meeting is sketchy as shit.”

Holland snickered behind them. “Scared of a little dirt and grime?”

“We don’t do certain jobs,” Maranta said cooly. “Illegal jobs attract unwanted attention.”

“Everything is perfectly legal,” Carling assured. “Ms. Galen has reason to believe that the attacks on our shipments are coming from inside the company, hence the need for secrecy. You two would be hired as independent contractors.”

Tucker cocked his head slightly in Maranta’s direction, who shrugged. “I guess we can hear them out then. Give us the deets.”

Carling leaned back in their chair. “As I explained in our first e-mail, for the past two months our shipments have been stolen, lifted right from the train car they’re in. Security feeds had been lost or corrupted, and security— both our own and train personnel— have either gone missing or been found dead at the destination.” As Carling spoke, they pulled a few folders from a bag and slid them across the desk.

Tucker picked one up and was surprised to see _handwritten_ notes along with a few grainy images.

“Ms.Galen also believes there’s a possibility that insurrectionists are involved,” Carling continued, “as our goods are hardly the most lucrative to target, but do disrupt power distribution across the planet.”

Maranta made a noise of disgust.

“They think they can get away with it here,”Holland grunted, “since the UNSC doesn’t hang around much.”

Tucker flipped over a page. “If that’s the case, do you really think two extra guns are gunna help?”

“You won’t be the only security onboard,” Carling clarified, straightening the cuff of their sleeve. “But since you’re being hired… quietly—“

“That means under the table.” Holland grinned gleefully at Carling, who was glaring at her in return.

“… You won’t be expected,” they finished. “Not to mention it’s not everyday you get two ex-UNSC soldiers, one of whom has clearly gotten into a tussle with an elite and _won._ ”

Tucker did his best not to shift uncomfortably. His sword had gotten them way too many jobs to risk correcting anyone about that little piece of information. Besides, he had gotten rather good with it over the years.

“You’ll be going in undercover as passengers,” Carling slid them another folder with two tickets poking out, “in plainclothes. The element of surprise will be on your side.”

This time, Tucker couldn’t fight the fidget as he glanced nervously at Maranta. Or, more accurately, at her leg. “That’s not—“

“It’s fine,” Maranta cut in quickly, silencing Tucker with a subtle, quick hand movement. “How are we getting paid?”

“One quarter of your pay now.” Carling, if they had noticed the exchange at all, ignored it. “Then the other three quarters upon safe arrival of company goods.”

“Sounds great,” Maranta nodded to Carling, still speaking quickly and preventing Tucker from cutting in. “We’ll send you our account information once we’re back to our ship.”

Carling smiled. “I’m glad we could work something out. If you two succeed, this will be profitable for all of us.”

—

“For the last time Lavernius,” Maranta said, storing away her helmet, “I’ll be fine.” Now down to just her kevlar, she turned to face Tucker, smoothing her hair out. “You’re acting as if this a fresh injury. I know how to fight with my limp.”

Despite her smile and bright tone, Tucker was not assured. “Yeah, in you _power armour_ ,” he protested, eyes glued to her as she worked her way across the room. “All it would take is one good kick to send you sprawling to the ground.”

Frustratingly, Maranta laughed as if he had told a joke. “Well it’s a good thing I have such a wonderful partner to catch me if I fall.” With a grin and pyjamas in hand, she moved to slide past Tucker.

He caught her elbow. “Bethli, I’m not kidding! You could get seriously hurt!”

Maranta stopped to look up at him, blinking. “You’re… you’re actually worried,” she said, mouth hanging open.

Tucker could feel his face heat up. “I just— I want to take this seriously, alright?” He turned away from her, angrily rifling through the drawers for his pjs. 

He heard Maranta shuffle, then the springs of the bed creaking. “Okay,” she said as Tucker glanced over his shoulder. “Let’s take this seriously.” She patted the bed next to her, waiting.

‘ _Great, she’s turning this into a heart to heart.’_ Tucker flopped onto the bed, slouching with his arms folded across his chest.

Maranta rolled her eyes. “You’re right that I’ll have to be more careful. But I’m not unaware of that. I promise not to do anything stupid.”

Tucker grunted, looking at the ground. “You better not,” he said weakly. “I can’t be a total badass _and_ rescue your sorry ass at the same time.” He glanced at her to see her shaking her head, the hint of a smile on her lips. 

“I’m not worried,” Maranta said. “Because I know you’ve got my back.” She clapped his once and gave it a rub. 

Tucker sighed and leaned back on his hands. “Look, just promise me I’m not going to have to carry you half dead back to the ship, alright? I know you like being in my arms and all, but it’s a pain.”

Maranta snorted and shoved his shoulder. “You’re insufferable, you know that? Yes, I promise to be careful. Now can I get changed and go to sleep already?”

Tucker relented, sitting up and allowing Maranta to get by. He watched shuffle into the bathroom, favouring her right leg, eyes not leaving her until she closed the door. 

It took him a long time to fall asleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I wonder who Walking Mountain Scar Face and Leery Knife Face could be. I just have no idea. :P


	2. Train Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so definitely not two weeks later, but yaaay here is chapter 2! Getting this ending out was like pulling teeth, but I did it!  
> I'm still gunna try to get something a schedule, even if it's hard. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. c:

The train was an older model, loud and shaky as it rumbled down the tracks. Maranta stood on the edge of the seat in their private cabin, trying to shove her luggage into the above-head storage compartment, grunting and straining with the effort. The train hit a particularly rough bump, and the resulting jolt was enough to cause her to lose her balance. She flailed, falling backwards with a loud, “whoa!”

Tucker caught her against his chest, raising a brow as he looked down at her. “I thought you said I wouldn’t have to carry you?” He asked with a growing grin.

Maranta scowled up at him, wiggling in his arms. “Ha ha. Put me down.” She continued to squirm until Tucker set her free. Smoothing down the sides of her skirt, she sat down on the seat and stuck her tongue out at him. Tucker snorted and rolled his eyes. Despite how often she’d insist otherwise, Maranta could be downright childish.

“I know we’re meant to be blending in,” Tucker leaned back against the seat, eyeing her, “but you sure you want to be in a skirt when shit starts to go down?”

Maranta smirked, looking quite pleased with herself as she pulled up her skirt to just above her knees. She was wearing opaque black leggings that stopped at mid-calf. “Seriously, Lavernius, do you take me for an amateur?” She let the flowy material drop back down. “I know how to keep my mobility in a skirt.” Her chest puffed out, and she sat up a bit straighter. “I used to explore the woods back home in dresses all the time!”

“Uh huh.” Tucker brought his eyes back up from where they had been lingering on her legs. “And having nearly two feet of billowing fabric has never slowed you down?”

At that, Maranta paused, her shoulders slouching down. “Well… there was one time I nearly fell three metres out of a tree and got all tangled up in the branches. But,” she continued over Tucker’s incredulous snort, “so long as we don’t have to fight any tress, I think I’m good.”

“You’re impossible,” Tucker laughed. “Are pants really that bad?”

“Just the worst.” Maranta huffed with a scowl. She pulled out her small bag from the under-seat storage. “Now if you’re done making fun of me, I’m gunna go over the train schematics.”

“Again?” Tucker had lost count the number of times he’d seen Maranta pouring over those papers.

“I need a refresher!” Maranta said, producing a file folder from her bag.

With a shrug, Tucker scooted closer. “Well let me see too.” His arm came up to rest along the back of the seat, around Maranta, his fingers almost but not quite brushing her hair.

If Maranta was bothered by the closeness she didn’t say anything, instead focusing on the detailed prints of the train. It was absolutely covered in the handwritten notes she and Tucker had taken before. He watched as she traced her finger over the train car they were in, the last passenger car before two cargo cars. Behind those was a currently unused engine car. This particular train could be decoupled and made smaller, should the need arise.

Tucker’s gaze was drawn to Maranta’s face as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She had a habit of worrying her lip in thought. He could always tell when she was particularly stressed because her lips would be brighter, flushed from the constant stimulation.

“Tucker, are you listening to me?”

Tucker blinked, shaking his head once. “Huh? Sorry, zoned out. What was that?”

“I said we need to set up monitors soon,” she repeated patiently. “I know the company goods are in the first car, but I still think we should keep watch there too.” She tapped the second cargo car with a finger. “They could come in through the unused engine. Hell, they could be set up there already for all we know.”

“Right,” Tucker nodded. “You went and bought some cameras we could use, yeah? Where are they?” The train had its own security, but given how ineffective it had been at stopping the thefts up until now, they needed their own method of keeping watch.

“That I did,” Maranta said brightly, grinning from ear to ear as she rifled through her bag again.

Now, Tucker had a lot of respect for Maranta. She might not have had the most solid attention span, but when she was focused she could come up with some brilliant plans. Still, he held her in a flat look as she pulled a _baby monitor_ from her bag.

“ _Seriously_?” Tucker looked from the kiddy, bear shaped monitor in her hands to her face and back again. “This was the best you could get? A baby monitor.”

“Hey, low tech is often overlooked,” Maranta argued as she stowed it away again. “And look!” She gleefully pulled free two plush teddybears, one brown and one black. “The mics and cameras are these adorable and totally innocent bears!”

Tucker continued to fix her with his blank stare. “That’s the entire reason you bought the baby monitor isn’t it.”

Maranta’s smile turned sheepish. “Weeeeell that, and everything else was too pricey, delicate, or would be hard to sneak on a train.”

Tucker took one of the bears to look it over. It was a little heavier than a normal plush bear, but only just. “True. Security probably didn’t even look twice at your bag huh? You got your pistol in okay, then?”

“I didn’t even get stopped,” Maranta snorted. “I saw that you did, though.” She took the bear back and placed them both in her bag. “What did you tell them when they pulled your sword out?”

“ _Oh._ ” Tucker laughed as a wide, shit-eating grin spread across his face. “I told them that was a _toy_ for you and I later. We _are_ supposed to be a couple, after all.” He winked at her as her her gaze turned stoney. “Bow chika bow wow~”

Maranta rolled her eyes dramatically, entirely unimpressed with Tucker as she elbowed him in the ribs. “I hate you so much sometimes.” She huffed.

“That’s the spirit!” Tucker pulled away from her jabbing elbow. “Perfectly in character.”

“Let’s just inspect the cargo hold before I chuck you out the window.” She stuck her tongue out again.

The cargo car was dark with no windows, and it took Tucker a moment for his eyes to adjust. He blinked several times, taking in the dark shapes. Cargo that was too big, awkwardly shaped, or heavy for passengers to bring as their carry on were piled up and strapped down, locked away until the train reached its destination.

Flicking on his flashlight, Tucker began to carefully move between two large crates. “I’m gunna go check on the goods, make sure they weren’t nabbed right at the beginning. You good with those monitors?”

As he turned to look at her, Tucker laughed to see Maranta already climbing up a study stack of boxes. “Yup,” she chirped, not even turning to look at him.

Shaking his head at her antics, he pressed on into the cargo car, taking care not to trip over any of the bolts holding down the goods. His feet kicked up dust as he went, causing it to speckle in the beam of his light.

Towards the middle of the car, he found several crates stamped with the Galen company logo. They were heavy duty and secure, locked down tight. Maneuvering to one on the top, Tucker punched in the security code Carling had provided.

“Bingo,” he hummed as it popped open. Inside, neatly packaged electrical components were wrapped up carefully in the best bubble wrap money could buy. There was no way Tucker wasn’t going to be able to check the boxes on the bottom, but Holland was quite clear earlier when they said they were all full when being put on the train.

A hand tapped his foot and Tucker whipped around, mouth half open and heart in his throat, ready to explain to some train personnel what he was doing climbing boxes with his head in a company crate in the off-limits cargo car, but he was relieved to see he was looking down at Maranta. “ _Jesus_ you almost gave me a heart attack,” he hissed.

Maranta was shielding her eyes with her hand. “Yeah, well,” she retorted, “you’re blinding me, so we’re even.”

Oh fuck he was, wasn’t he? “Shit, sorry,” Tucker apologized, quickly directing his flashlight to the ground. “You got everything set up okay?”

Maranta rubbed her eyes, nodding. “Yup, got it all set up. Everything good here?” She patted the crate Tucker was standing on.

“S’far as I can tell.” Tucker shrugged. “If they stole from the bottom crates already, we ain’t finding out till we get there.”

“Great! Let’s go see if the monitor is working.” She grinned and stepped back to allow Tucker down. “Then, we gotta check out the food car. I’m starving, and I’m pretty sure the brochure mentioned they had sushi.”

Tucker’s grin matched her’s at the mention of food.

**

The first leg of their trip was actually relaxing. Two days of watching landscape rush by, naps, and plenty of time to read. If they hadn’t had a job to do, Tucker wouldn’t have been able to put his book down. But as they approached the long tunnel through the mountain range, he became too antsy to focus on reading. It was just too… passive. Just before they entered the tunnel, Tucker switched to his laptop.

His desktop was a mess of various files and screenshots, and it took him some time to find the ones he was looking for. Thankfully Maranta was too engrossed in watching the monitor to bother him about it. It’s not like her desktop was much better.

The document file was labeled “Important Words”, because Tucker wasn’t sure what else to call it. It was _filled_ with red squiggle lines marking ‘misspelled’ words, since the program wasn’t exactly equipped to read sangheili. Tucker wasn’t even sure if these were spelled right at all, but so long as he could read it and pronounce it, who cared.

Recently he finally managed to work out that _rioka_ was _your_ and _riok_ was _you’re_ from the limited bits of sangheili that he had managed to find. It was frustrating, know that higher ups in the UNSC probably had full on, high tech translator devices, and everyone else had scraps. He was so close now to working out what exactly he wanted to say, but a few key words still were beyond him. “So,” he muttered, trying to focus on this abstract frustration instead of the gnawing worry that began to crawl up his spine, “would it be _eli rioka_ or _rioka eli_?”

But even the puzzle that was sangheili grammar couldn’t distract him any longer. Tucker’s leg began to bounce. It wasn’t like him to be this worried. He and Maranta had pulled off countless dangerous jobs before now, all without a hitch! Or, well, relatively minor ones at least. This wasn’t _that_ different from those jobs. They’d just be without their power armour, the very thing that protected them from almost all injuries and enhanced their reflexes and abilities.

His eyes slid down to Maranta’s knee. The skirt she was wearing today had ridden up her leg to her mid thigh, revealing the plain beige knee brace she wore on a daily basis now. That day back in Blood Gulch, she had wrecked that knee after pulling out the crystal spike Flowers had shot her with, all in an attempt to save everyone. She hadn’t even been able to walk for a week after, and Tucker had almost regretted asking her to come help him with Junior at the time. Now that guilt was coming back. Maranta was putting herself in harm’s way for him, _again_. If she was even a bit too slow…

 _‘She’ll be fine,’_ he told himself as he pulled his eyes back to his screen.

Another half hour dragged by before Maranta sat up so sharply that Tucker nearly dropped his laptop. “We’ve got movement!” She pointed at the screen in her lap. “Looks like three, no, four people are entering the second cargo car.”

Practically throwing his laptop into his bag, Tucker leapt to his feet and shoved his sword into the back pocket of his pants. It wasn’t exactly comfortable as it poked into his ass, and not for the first time Tucker found himself jealous of Maranta’s little hip holster that neatly hid under her skirt. He opened the door of their cabin, and immediately came to an abrupt stop.

There, standing against the exit of the train car, was a security guard where there hadn’t been a guard the entire trip before now.

Maranta all but crashed into his back. “Ow, wha—“

“Hang on, forgot something,” Tucker said loudly, pushing back inside and shutting the door.

Maranta was instantly on edge as he turned to face her, practically bouncing from foot to foot. “What is it?” She kept her voice down in a whisper.

“Security,” Tucker whispered back.

Maranta’s frown grew confused, her eyebrows knotting together. “Now? After we’re more than half way done the trip?”

“Maybe he’s in on it? Keeping nosy people out.” Tucker folded his arms over his chest, frustrated. “But even if he’s not, how do we get past him?”

Maranta bit her lip and glanced at the doorway behind him. “I’ve got an idea,” she said after a moment. “See if you can get him in here.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” Tucker protested as Maranta put her hands on his chest and pushed.

“Just tell him I need help getting something down,” she said hurriedly. “We don’t exactly have time to come up with a detailed plan right now! Hupsha hupsha, quick like a bunny.”

The hell she just say to him? She was right about being tight on time, but she didn’t have to push him.

Tucker stepped back into the hall, his mind racing a mile a minute as he approached the security guard. They raised a brow and looked his way, but didn’t otherwise move. “Hey, uh,” Tucker fumbled, his tongue like lead, “my partner’s bag is stuck in the overhead compartment, and I can’t get it out. Any chance you could help her?”

The guard’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Yeah, sure,” they nodded, an easygoing smile on their face. They slipped past Tucker who silently cheered as he followed.

But as they opened the door, Tucker found himself as equally flabbergasted as the security when the cabin was revealed to be empty. The security stepped inside, frowning. “Is this a j—,” was all they had time to say before Maranta _dropped_ from above, bringing her elbow down on their head. They stumbled, dazed.

“Close the door!” Maranta hissed, gesturing wildly as she hurriedly gagged the person with a sock.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Tucker stared, shutting the door behind him as Maranta tied the security with a flash of silver duct tape. He hadn’t even been aware that she had packed that.

“I climbed the doorway,” she shrugged, out of breath but matter-of-factly. She taped their hands behind their back, and their legs together at the knees and ankles. “Used to do that all the time as a kid. I’d drop down and scare my sisters as they opened a door.

As she pulled back from security, they began to protest, voice muffled by the sock and tape. A guilty look flashed over her face. “Look, if you, um, aren’t in on the heist, I’m sorry.”

Tucker reached for Maranta’s arm and tugged her towards him. “You can have a guilty conscious later, we gotta move…!” They ignored the indignant huffing of the security, leaving them behind in the cabin.

The air whipped Maranta’s hair about as they stepped out into the space between cars, and Tucker had to squint to protect his eyes from dust and dirt.

“Ready?” Maranta shouted over the sound of rushing wind and the clanking train. She had something of a wild grin on her face as she pulled her pistol from her hostler, and it was hard not to echo her confidence. It was so different seeing it on her face, rather than justing hearing it over the radio.

“Ladies first,” Tucker gestured towards the door. “On three?” Maranta nodded, hand on the handle. Tucker held up three fingers. “One, two… three!”

Maranta threw open the door and the inside of the cargo car was flooded with light, revealing four stunned individuals, frozen in shock. They stood in front of open crates, boxes stamped with the Galen logo being passed between them.

“Look at that Bait!” Tucker clapped Maranta on the back cheerily. “You’re not the only one who forgot their toothbrush!”

**BANG!**

Tucker and Maranta threw themselves to the ground as a gunshot ricochetted off the wall. “They always gotta do things the hard way,” Maranta lamented, shaking her head.

“We’ll let’s give them the fight they want!” With a wink, Tucker sprang back up to his feet, igniting his sword with a flourish.

He found himself face to face with a bandana wearing woman who immediately took a swing for his face, her hand balled into a fist.

Tucker ducked under her arm, and brought the tip of his sword up to her chin, the hot plasma singeing the cloth. “You really should stand down,” he warned her in a cool, voice. Fuck, he’s a badass.

The moment was cut short when one of her partners tackled Tucker from the side, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Tucker very nearly smashed his face against a large metal crate, and only just managed to roll to the side and avoid the heavy boot that came crashing down beside his head.

“Damn girl,” he grunted through gritted teeth as he scrambled to his feet, “if you wanted to make this a threesome, all you had to do was ask.” The woman scowled at him.

“Vern, watch out!”

He was moving before he had fully processed Maranta’s words, throwing himself to the side and pressing against stack of goods. A gun fired not a moment later, and the woman who had tackled Tucker fell to the ground with a shout, clutching her arm.

“Ya shot Lilly!” The bandana wearing woman cursed, head whipping around to where the other had fallen.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Tucker kicked her legs out from under her, causing her to tumbled backwards. She whacked her head on the way down and flopped on the ground, dazed.

With the two in front of him down, Tucker turned around just in time to see Maranta drop to the ground. “Bait!” He dashed to the other side of the cargo car, feet skidding across metal.

One man lay on the ground, clutching his bleeding leg, but the last thief stood over Maranta, kicking away her pistol with a sneer. He had lost his bandana in the fight, and was bleeding from a graze across his cheek. Ice flooded Tucker’s veins as the man pointed a serious looking handgun at her head. He wasn’t going to make it in time!

Then Maranta bit his leg.

Tucker blinked as the man howled in pain, his shot going wide. She hooked her hands behind his knee and tossed him to the ground, bouncing up to her feet in one smooth motion. Before her opponent had chance to scramble away, Maranta brought her foot down _hard_ on his crotch, and Tucker couldn’t help the empathy wince.

“Stay the HELL down!” Maranta snarled, spitting out blood. She had been struck on the mouth and her split lip was already swollen.

Tucker stared, jaw hanging open. He knew Maranta was scrappy, but he hand’t seen her _that_ scrappy before.

As silence fell, other than the would be thieves groaning and whimpering in pain, Maranta wiped blood from her face with the back of her hand. “Well,” she panted heavily as she looked to Tucker, “that was exciting!”

**

Feeling better with a heavier bank account, Tucker was having a much easier time reading and actually absorbing the book in front of him. The bus was a much rougher ride than the train, but town of Perth was much too small for a train station. It was comfortable enough, and even had wifi!

Beside him, Maranta began to chuckle as she typed away on her laptop. “Ms.Galen is so pleased with us that she’s trying to offer us a job.” She tapped Tucker to get his attention, turning the screen towards him.

Tucker glanced over. “Really? Figuring out it was train security and her own people nabbing the goods is that impressive?”

“Seems like.” Maranta pulled her laptop back towards her. “I’m going to tell her no, of course, but that she’s _more_ than welcome to give us a bonus.”

Tucker laughed wistfully. “One of these days, that’s going to work. And we are going to treat ourselves when it does.”

“Oh,” Maranta paused in writing, looking up with a sigh. “I could go back to the port and get that skirt.”

“New bed sheets, a toaster that doesn’t burn our toast…” Tucker joined her in daydream, thumbing his place in his book to look over at her. She had a dreamy smile on her face, and she practically lit up at the mention of a new toaster.

“New knives, and a knife sharpener,” she said, leaning closer to the window to gaze out it, “so I don’t nearly cut my thumb off again…”

Tucker watched as she sighed deeply and smiled, a smile of his own echoing hers. They spent the rest of the trip like that, bantering back and forth about all the things they’d get or upgrade if they had cash to spare after expenses.

They found Perth in a sorry state indeed. Heavy rains and floods had caused large chunks of ground to wash away, taking some buildings with it. Power lines were down, and entire neighbourhoods were inaccessible by car due to damaged roads. As Tucker and Maranta walked through the town they passed teams of volunteers laying sandbags along roads to keep flood waters at bay, cleaning up debris, and helping out those who needed it. Dressed in their armour, asides for helmets at the moment, they drew curious, cautious looks. A few girls giggled when Tucker winked at them, but most simply watched. They approached a large canopy set up on poles, under-which were tables and various people in reflective vests. As Tucker sauntered up he did his best to look heroic, chest puffed up and chin held up high. Even Maranta, short as she was, dwarfed the people around them in her power armour.

“I heard you guys were in need of a couple heroes?” He grinned as they turned to look. A middle aged man looked way up at him, and his entire posture sank in relief.

“ _Yes,_ ” he breathed as he greeted them, enthusiastically shaking Maranta then Tucker’s hand. “We’ve been hard at work, but things are slow. Just having you around is going to be great motivation.”

“Wow,” a woman nodded, impressed. She briefly stopped organizing boxes of dried goods to look them over. “When you said ex-soldiers I wasn’t expecting Spartans.”

“Not Spartans,” Maranta was quick to correct, holding up a hand. “We were from a different military project.”

Tucker winked with a grin. “Still 100% badass, don’t you worry babe.”

She rolled her eyes, now entirely unimpressed. “I’m sure,” she said, turning back to work.

Ah well. Couldn’t charm ‘em all.

“So how can we help Mr…?”

“Greg, call me Greg.” He smiled warmly at Maranta. “If you don’t mind physical labour, there’s still a lot of rubble about that needs clearing. If we had more space freed up, we could organize better.” He looked between the two of them, suddenly faltering. “I just… I’m sorry, I want to make sure I’ve made it absolutely clear that we can’t pay you…”

“Hey it’s cool,” Tucker shrugged. “We know that, and we still want to help. But there is still something you can do to help us out.”

Greg blinked, rubbing his hands together. “There is?” His shoulders were hiking up around his ears, and a few people around them slowed in their work. The atmosphere was tense, nervous.

 _‘People have extorted them before,’_ Tucker thought, fighting back a scowl. People were scum.

“It’s nothing big,” Maranta promised. “We’re just looking for information. Two men should have passed through this town a few months ago. It’s possible they were even wearing armour like ours, but white and dark blue.”

The tension immediately eased, and Tucker saw Greg give a visible sigh of relief. “I didn’t see anyone like that, but someone in town must have.”

“Thank you. These men stole… they stole something very precious to me,” Tucker said carefully. It wasn’t that if he thought too much about it, admitting that Junior had been kidnapped made him emotional. He just didn’t want word getting back to Wyoming and Flowers, that’s all.

“Of course, I understand,” Greg nodded. “I promise, if I hear anything, I’ll let you know immediately.”

“Thank you,” Tucker repeated, quieter this time.

**

Tucker balked as he inputed Thirus, the planet Wyoming and Flowers were said to have gone to next, into _Lucidity’s_ navigator. “Shit that’s far,” he muttered, staring at the coordinates.

“What’s far?” Maranta paused in the doorway, bags of groceries hanging off her arms.

“Thirus. It’s one of the outer rim colonies. Real far, and real small.” Tucker let himself fall back against his chair, the leather creaking. “Gunna be a long trip, even with slipstream.”

Maranta’s brow furrowed, setting the groceries down by the door and walking up behind Tucker. She put her hand on the back of the chair and leaned forward, looking down at the nav system with him. She was already biting on her bottom lip in thought, and Tucker wondered idly if she was aware of the action.

“Do you think they’re making their move now?” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as she turned to look Tucker face on. “Trying to contact Sangheili in the Covenant?”

Tucker gripped the arm of his chair. That had been his first thought upon seeing the planet on the edge of human controlled space, but to hear it spoken out loud…

Junior would have been about two years old now. He didn’t know how fast Sangheilie aged, but he was still just a child in Tucker’s mind. They didn’t have Omega to control him, but he wouldn’t put it past them finding another way to use Junior to control the Sangheili, fractioning the Covenant from within. Being used to enslave his own people. Sure, the Covenant was determined to whip humanity from the face of the galaxy but…

“Then we haven’t got any time to waste,” Tucker said seriously, meeting Maranta’s gaze. “Let’s hurry and get _Lucidity_ ready. I want to leave in a few hours at most.”

Tucker wasn’t going to allow anyone to use his son like that.


	3. Close but no Cigar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another several months later, here's chapter 3! I'm really happy with this one, it's fun getting to write Tucker with such raw emotions.
> 
> The first drafts of chapters 4 and 5 are already written up, though I've hit a bit of a wall on how to get from the current point to the next. Hopefully by the time I publish chapter 5, I will figure it out! :D
> 
> Enjoy the fic!

_Lucidity_ touched down at the tiny space port after nearly a week of travel. Tucker had never been this far from the inner colony planets before, and the stars looked totally foreign has they had exited slipspace. Thirus was right on the edge of human occupied space, and UNSC presence was all but non-existent here. Not exactly a bastion of civilization, but if he found Junior, Tucker would take a goddamn vacation here.

The trip hadn’t been easy on _Lucidity_ either. As Tucker powered down, one of the warning lights began to rapidly flash orange. He tapped at the dash with a frown.

“Fuckberries,” he huffed as the light stubbornly continued to blink.

“What’s up?” Maranta glanced over from the co-pilot seat beside him.

“Well either our ‘check engine’ light is broken,” Tucker gestured in front of him, “or _Lucidity_ needs a tune up.”

“Great,” Maranta sighed. “What’s borked?”

“Looks like something to do with our oxygen systems.”

Maranta visibly shuddered. “Real glad that didn’t decide to break down on us in space.”

Shit, Tucker hadn’t even considered that. He had just been annoyed at the idea of spending more money. Now he couldn’t stop thinking of him and Maranta collapsed on the floor, choking, gasp for air that just wasn’t there.

He gave his head a little shake to clear it. “Can you look up mechanics in the area?” Tucker began to rifle around the various small compartments in _Lucidity_. “I’ll get us registered.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Maranta spun her chair around and stood up. “Hopefully this is a ‘everything is cheaper because of a low cost of living’ planet and not a ‘everything is hella expensive because it’s so far from Earth’ planet.”

“Hopefully,” he echoed after her.

As he walked down the landing ramp, Tucker was greeted by a strong, sour smell in the air that caused him to scrunch up his nose. In the early morning light, he could make out a few chimney stacks already spewing thick smoke into the air. Whatever they were producing, it clearly wasn’t been made cleanly.

‘ _Guess all those ‘clean energy’ laws only apply to Earth,’_ he thought wryly.

Standing at the bottom of _Lucidity’s_ ramp was a port official, her uniform rumpled and dirty with oil. Looks like she did more than paper work around here.

Well, that, or she didn’t care much for personal hygiene.

“Papers,” she said gruffly, extending a hand.

“No nonsense and straight to the point, huh?” Tucker chuckled as he handed her the ship's registration papers.

“I like to run a tight shipyard.” She didn’t even look at Tucker as she began to flip through them, asking questions and double checking that everything was in order. When they had first bought _Lucidity_ , Tucker had questioned Maranta’s insistence to use their real names on its papers, but it really made docking easier. He didn’t have to worry about giving the wrong name or date.

“All in order,” she nodded curtly, handing the papers back to Tucker. “How long will you be in port?”

“A month, give or take,” he said honestly. That was usually how long they would stay planet side, giving them time to take on a few jobs and look into what Wyoming and Flowers had been doing here.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Tucker winked at her. “But I could be convinced to stay longer for you, baby.”

The port worker finally looked at him, and it was to fix him in a glare so intense that he actually took a step back. “Do you always flirt with people on the job when they can’t get away?”

“Err,” Tucker flustered, feeling his face flush. It had honestly been a reflex, and he hadn’t been expecting an answer.

“Are you causing problems?”

Tucker looked over his shoulder to see Maranta walking up behind him, brow arched.

“Uh, no, I was… getting to know her,” Tucker retorted, causing the port official to snort.

“Not problems, but he’s certainly making a fool of himself,” she smirked.

Maranta rolled her eyes, adjusting the bag on her back. “Yeah, that’s nothing new.”

Tucker pouted, mocking more hurt than he felt as Maranta pushed past him.

She ignored him, her attention on the woman in front of her. “Are well all good?”

She nodded and handed a torn piece of paper to Maranta. “Everything accounted for. If you end up leaving early or staying long, make sure to report in. Enjoy Thirus.” With a lazy wave, she turned and left, leaving Tucker and Maranta alone on the ramp.

“Did you have to be so mean?” Tucker huffed as he jabbed Maranta in her side, causing her to dance away.

“Do you have to flirt with _every_ woman we meet?” Maranta countered with her hands on her hips. “You keep getting us into trouble!”

“I can’t help it, that shit’s instinct,” Tucker lamented with a heavy sigh, following after Maranta as she walked down the ramp. He liked girls! So sue him.

Maranta shook her head. “I just hope the mechanic isn’t a woman. You’ll probably cause her to jack up the price for trying to take her to dinner.”

“Oh!” Tucker perked, dropping the silly argument. “You found one?”

“There’s one in port,” she explained. “I was gunna go check them out, and see if it’s worth making an appointment.”

“Want some company?”

Maranta narrowed her eyes at him. “Only if you don’t flirt with any women there.

Tucker laughed, grinning. “No promises,” he said cheekily.

It turned out to be a moot point, as the mechanic who greeted them at the entrance of the shop was a balding man with white hair. Ah well, at least Tucker could imagine a pretty girl covered in engine grease.

“Hey there,” he beamed at them. “What can I do for you today?”

“Do you guys fix oxygen systems?” Tucker stepped forward to speak while Maranta began to pace about the shop.

“That we do son.” He picked up a clipboard and forum from his desk. “What seems to be the problem?”

“We’re not entirely sure,” Tucker shrugged, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “Just one of the warning lights came on as we exited slipspace, and that’s really not one we wanna risk leaving.”

“Yeah,” the mechanic winced, “that’s one of the more important bits of a ship.” He jotted down a few notes, his pencil scratching the paper. “Make and model number?”

Tucker rattled off the sting of numbers and letters, having memorized it long ago.

“Ah!” He smiled and nodding knowingly. “Now those are hardy little ships. Had the pleasure of working on a few before.”

 _‘Perfect_ ’, Tucker thought. That should ease Maranta’s anxieties some.

“And the ship’s name?”

“ _Lucidity_ ,” Tucker chuckled. “It was her idea.” He gestured with his head towards Maranta, who was engrossed by posters of what looked to be local movies.

The mechanic fixed him with a knowing look, a smirk on his face. “And what girlfriend says goes, right?”

Tucker immediately choked, coughing and sputtering. He quickly checked over his shoulder to see if Maranta had reacted at all, then turned back. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said, trying to laugh it off. “Just a friend.”

“Oh,” the mechanic straightened up, blinking. “Sorry, no offence.”

“None taken,” Tucker said quickly. It’s not like Maranta would make a bad girlfriend. She was pretty cute, and there was the whole ‘searching the entire goddamn galaxy to find his son’ thing. It was just… Maranta was his friend! Dating her would just make things _weird_ between them, make things _messy._ He didn’t want to do that to her.

He coughed again, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Is there anything else you’d need from us?”

“Ah,” the mechanic glanced at his papers. “Just your names, and some contact information.”

Tucker let out a breath, the heat of embarrassment slowly cooling in the pit of his stomach. “Lavernius Tucker and Elizabeth Maranta.”

“Hmm,” the mechanic hummed as he wrote their names down. “You know, I worked with an Oswald Maranta once.”

The comment was said no louder than the girlfriend comment, but this time Maranta nearly bowled Tucker over as she damn near sprinted across the room. “You knew my Dad?” She asked with wide eyes. She almost sounded out of breath!

“Yeah!” He smiled broadly. “We did some work for the same military project together. We got on great. How’s he doing these days? Still playing poker?”

Maranta’s eyes fluttered as her shoulders sagged, all of the excitement leaving her like a popped balloon. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “He was killed in action, just over six years ago.” Her pale face had lost its colour, and Tucker held out his arms, hands hovering over her form. She didn’t stumble, but she did grip his wrist in her hand.

The mechanic’s face fell. “I’m sorry to hear that. The galaxy is a worst place without him. … Are you alright?”

Maranta took a breath. “Yeah. Yes, sorry. Guess it’s just one of those days, where it hits harder than most.” Her grip on Tucker’s wrists slacked, and he allowed his hand to drop into hers with a light squeeze. Once she had composed herself, she continued. “What was it that you two were working on?”

“Well I was helping out with some of the electrical engineering work that Ozzie was doing,” he explained. “But it was all hush hush. Secret government stuff. Only info I was ever allowed to know was the project’s initials, PFL.”

Maranta gripped Tucker’s hand so tightly that her fingernails bit into his skin.

PFL.

Project Freelancer.

—

Tucker found himself alone the evening in Thirus’ single spaceport. After making the appointment with the mechanic, Maranta hastily excused herself, mumbling something about not feeling well. It made him worry, but she had insisted on returning alone. “Someone needs to start looking into Wyoming and Flowers.”

It was true, but so far Tucker hadn’t found anything. He checked grocers, mechanics, sketchy arms dealers, hell even the laundromats. No one had seen anyone matching the descriptions Tucker told them. He angrily kicked a rock down the sidewalk, his frustration mounting. This wouldn’t be the first false lead he and Maranta had gone chasing, but Thirus was so far removed from other planets. The only reason it hadn’t been glassed yet was sheer dumb luck, probably. Now they’d have to go back to the last known location of Flowers and Wyoming and start their search _again_. That was a huge waste of gas, food, money, _time._

Tucker scowled, the thought of wasted time causing unease to flare up in his stomach. Every mistake, every bit of lost time, meant Junior was slipping further away from him. He rubbed at his eyes which had begun to sting, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“Are you an alien?” A small voice asked just outside of his peripheral vision.

Tucker jumped and looked to his side to see a young kid staring at him, eyes narrowed and hesitant. A ball was clutched in her hands, and he was about to ask what she was doing here when he realized with a start that this was a residential neighbourhood. How lost in his own thoughts had he been and for how long that he didn’t notice where he was going?

Focusing his attention back on the girl, he crouched down as not to loom over her, a smile on his lips. “Do I _look_ like an alien?”

The girl shuffled on the spot, looking him over before settling on his eyes. “I dunno. You _look_ like one of my cousins a little, and _he’s_ a person, but _you’ve_ got yellow eyes, and the only thing with yellow eyes that _I’ve_ seen was an _alien_.”

Oh right. It had been long enough now that he no longer did a double take in every mirror and reflective surface he passed, but at some point during his pregnancy with Junior his eyes had changed from their deep, gorgeous— in his opinion at least— brown eyes to stark yellow, matching Junior’s own eyes.

A part of him wondered what else had changed when he picked up that sword.

He couldn’t exactly tell all that to a little girl, so instead Tucker leaned in close and brought a hand to his mouth. “Can you keep a secret?”

Her eyes went wide and she nodded solemnly.

“My eyes look like this because I’m a hero,” he said with a grin. “I can’t tell you why, but I’m here on a top secret mission.”

The girl clutched the ball against her chest. “Are you gunna keep us safe from the bed men and the aliens?”

Tucker’s grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly brought it back with a nod. “So long as I’m on Thirus, I’ll keep you safe.”

It wasn’t a fib if he meant it, right?”

“Have there been bad men bothering you?”

She nodded. “They said some scary things when they caught me looking. One of em sounded nice, but that just made him more scary.”

Tucker frowned. That sounded like… “Why were you staring? What were they doing?”

“They had a little alien with them…!” The girl whispered. “It had eyes like yours!”

Tucker’s heart skipped several beats as he thought to keep himself composed. As calmly as he possibly could, Tucker looked both ways to make absolutely sure they were alone. “Can you tell me where you saw them? This is very, _very_ important.”

The girl nodded. “I was playing in the old factory, the big rusty one. It’s mine and Danicha’s secret place, until the men showed up.

It took everything in his power not to immediately take off. He stood slowly, flashing the girl a smile. “Thanks. You stay away from there, okay? You’re right, those are bad men.”

“Are you gunna fight them?”

“I’m gunna kick their butts so bad they’ll wish they never came to Thirus,” he promised.

Tucker was going to make them sorry for ever laying a hand on Junior.

But as much as he wanted to go charging off, he knew going alone was an absolutely terrible idea. Tucker practically ran the entire way back to _Lucidity_ , barely feeling the burning in his lungs.

“Bethli!” He yelled up the ramp, not waiting for it to close behind him before rushing into the living room. “Bethli, I found—!”

Maranta wasn’t in the living room, giving Tucker momentary pause before he rounded the corner into their bedroom. “Bethli!” Had she gone out without telling him? No, that wouldn’t be like her…

No, there she was, sitting up out of the covers of her bed, blinking blearily. “Lavernius?”

“Bethli, I found them! O-or where they’ve been staying!”

“Slow down,” Maranta rubbed at her eyes, pushing out of bed, “who are you talking about?”

“Wyoming and Flowers,” he said breathlessly.

Maranta was instantly awake, eyes wide. “What? How, where?” Despite her confusion, she was already reaching for her kevlar.

“This kid I ran into described these men who looked like them at this old factory.” Now that Maranta was up, Tucker began to dash about the room, plucking pieces of his armour. “She saw a little alien who had yellow eyes with them!” He reached for his helmet and froze as he caught sight of his reflection in his visor.

Junior was on this planet. Tucker might be seeing his son for the first time in years.

And he was _terrified_.

Would Junior recognize him?

Would he be happy to see him?

Would he blame Tucker for letting him be taken?

A hand on his shoulder brought him back, and he looked to see Maranta standing behind him, dressed in her kevlar. “Hey.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “It’s okay. We’re going to get your son.”

Tucker took a breath and nodded. At least whatever happened, Maranta would be there.

—

“God _fucking_ dammit!” Tucker grabbed the discarded lid of a metal container and threw it as hard as he could across the room. It bounced across rusted machinery, the resulting clang echoing in the night.

He had been prepared for the information to be false. He had been prepared to fight tooth and nail to get Junior back.

What he hadn’t been ready for was evidence that they _had_ been here, but were gone now. And based on the remains of the campsite they found, they had been here recently.

Tucker picked up a piece of rubble and went to whip it across the factory but he was stopped by Maranta’s grip on his wrist.

“Lavernius! Calm d—“

Tucker ripped his arm free. “Do NOT tell me to calm down!” He shouted past the lump in his throat. “He was _here_ , Bethli! He was here, and I didn’t get here fast enough! I _failed_ him again—“ Nope he couldn’t do it. He choked, shame welling up in his chest. Despite his helmet he turned away, trying to keep his shoulders from shaking.

It was overwhelming, the idea that Junior had been in this very place only weeks, maybe only days, before and he could feel the room beginning to spin. He failed…!

Maranta crossed in front of him, gripping his shoulders so tightly he could feel it through his kevlar. “You did _not_ fail him,” she said fiercely, firmly. “You are one of the most dedicated parents in this entire galaxy. Wyoming and Flowers can’t change that.”

Tucker nodded numbly. “I just want him back.” His voice was weak, shaking. “I just want him to be _safe_.”

“I know,” she squeezed his shoulders. “If they’re camping in places like this, they might not have a ship and are still on Thirus. It might not be too late, okay?”

Tucker’s arms hung limply at his side, and he allowed the piece of rubble to fall from his hand. “It’s late,” he murmured, not directly answering her. “We should head back to _Lucidity_ to sleep, and figure out our plans in the morning.”

He couldn’t stop imagining Junior in that abandoned factory, those yellow eyes boring into his own and haunting his dreams that night.


	4. Meta Knowledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg look! I uploaded another chapter within the same month! Look at me go! Weeee!

The thing about being ex-soldiers was many of the jobs they took on involved danger in someway or another. They rarely had jobs with any significant down time, with their previous train job being an exception. Tucker had assumed this job would be much the same.

It turned out that Jordan Wyss, a wealthy businessman who worked for Charon Industries, was a paranoid coward who had been hiring more and more security after a small Covenant group caused problems on Thirus a few weeks before Tucker and Maranta had arrived. The pay was great, but Tucker’s eyes were starting to go numb from staring at the same stretch of hallway. All. Day. Long.

At least he was in his armour, so he could bother Maranta via HUD messaging.

_‘Dude, I am so freaking bored.’_

Maranta’s reply came a few minutes later. _‘At least you’re moving around! I’ve been stuck outside this guy’s office all day, staring at this patch of wood panelling. I’m starting to see shapes in the grain.’_

 _‘He probably just wants you nearby cause you’re cute, :P’_ Tucker teased. Fancy, rich businessman? No way he wasn’t a pervert.

 _‘Ew,’_ Maranta replied instantly, causing Tucker to snort in laughter. _‘Absolutely not. There’s a reason I insist on being in armour meeting with male clients, and it’s because I don’t need some lecherous, middle aged man hitting on me while I work.’_.

Tucker snorted again, imagining how that would go, and had trouble stiflingly his laughter. _‘I’d like to see him try! You’d kick his ass.’_

_‘Yeah, but I also like to be paid. :/ Especially since that would affect you, too.’_

Tucker paused momentarily, her tone making him frown. _‘Hey,’_ he stopped at the end of the hall to focus on replying, _‘if it ever comes down to being paid or telling some freak to fuck off, always go with fuck off.’_ He hoped his tone went through alright, and that she understood that he was serious.

_‘c: Thank you, Lavernius.’_

_‘I mean it!’_ Tucker resumed walking, not wanting to miss his next check in time. Wyss would probably throw a fit if he did. _‘Even if we lose out on pay, we’ll make it work. We always have.’_

_‘ <3’_

Tucker was about to reply in kind, pleased that Maranta understood, when the mechanic’s words from the other day made him hesitate. _Obviously_ he and Maranta were just friends, and they had exchanged hearts plenty of times before. Maranta practically spammed them at him. But in the days since, Tucker had been hyperaware of his every interaction with Maranta, worried about pushing it too far. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, or worse, wreck the relationship they had.

But no, that was stupid! Sending dumb little hearts to each other hadn’t ruined things yet, why would they now? It was just that the mechanic had made him wonder what it would be like to have Maranta as a girlfriend, and that made him worried about making things messy. It was just stuck on his mind. He sent he heart and that was that.

The day continued by excruciatingly slowly, even with messaging Maranta. There were only so many conversations one could have when there was little to nothing happening. He was so mind numbingly bored that he almost missed that the man who’s patrol path crossed with his wasn’t at his corner. He startled once he realized he hadn’t heard the “Sup, Vern,” and he back paddled, looking down both halls. No sign of anyone, but Tucker hadn’t heard anything, so maybe there wasn’t a need to panic yet.

Almost as soon as he had that thought, shots and shouts began to reverberate down the hall. Maybe he shouldn’t have complained about being bored earlier.

Tucker took off, running towards Wyss’ office. Wyss had been quite clear that in the event of an attack, _he_ was the number one priority. Paranoid prick.

He opened the radio link he and Maranta frequented. “Looks like we’re getting some action today after all. You getting Wyss out?”

No answer. As he dashed around a corner, there was still no answer from Maranta. His heart immediately leapt into his throat. Had she been the one shot? “Bait? Bait!”

The radio crackled, static his only answer. He opened his mouth to call for her again, when Maranta’s voice finally came through. “They’re here! Those bastards are here!” Her voice was nearly manic, and Tucker had trouble understanding her.

“Bait! What do you mean, who’s—“

As he turned another corner, why did that fucker Wyss have to stick him on the opposite side of the building from where his office was, Tucker was bowled into by a figure in cobalt blue power armour. The figure immediately grabbed Tucker’s arms, yanking them harshly behind his back and slamming him into the wall.

“Private Tucker! Fancy seeing you here!” Even when he was crushing Tucker against the wall, Flowers still had that sickly sweet air about him. “Although, since you and Maranta went AWOL, I really shouldn’t call you ‘Private’ anymore, now should I?”

Tucker saw red, immediately struggling. “YOU!” He couldn’t reach his sword on his hip, not with Flowers’ iron grip on his wrists. Still, he wasn’t going to give up. He threw his head backwards, slamming into Flowers’ and sending him stumbling backwards.

“Tucker, please!” Flowers stood up straight, stretching his neck to either side. “Is that anyway to greet your old Cappy? It’s been too long.”

Tucker growled, snapping his sword arm to the side as he powered it up. “Where is he,” he demanded through gritted teeth.

Flowers tilted his head, hand on his chin. “Who? You’re going to have to be more specific than that, silly.”

With a disgusted noise, Tucker charged at Flowers, sword raised high above his head. “Do not fuck with me! Where is my son?!”

Flowers side stepped Tucker as he ran at him, slapping his hand in the middle of Tucker’s back and shoving him. “Oh, right!” He snapped his fingers as Tucker stumbled, almost falling to the ground as he lost his balance. “The little alien baby! Have you really been looking for him all this time? Aww, Tucker,” Flowers laid his hands over his heart, “that’s so endearing! You’re a truly dedicated father.”

“Stop fucking patronizing me!” Tucker snarled as he spun back around. He rushed at Flowers again, but Flowers was faster than he seemed, far faster than Tucker would have expected. He grabbed Tucker’s arms again, slamming his sword up above his head, the other twisted almost painfully and pushed into his back. Flowers’ whole body pinned Tucker’s to the wall, rendering him unable to move.

“Now Tucker,” Flowers sighed, forcing Tucker’s head to scrape against the the plaster, “please don’t get in my way. For the sake of our relationship, I don’t want to kill you, but if you force my hand, I can’t promise that you won’t get hurt—”

Tucker laughed bitterly as he fought to free himself, cutting Flowers off. “Well you should have thought about that before you kidnapped Junior!”

“Goodness me, are you still going on about that?” Flowers shook his head.

“Uh, yeah I am! He’s my fucking son!” Tucker struggles renewed, and a surge of adrenaline pulsed through his system. He wrenched his sword arm free, forcing Flowers to retreat lest he get a bunch of hot plasma through his chest. “You were going to infect him with an evil AI to brainwash him! I’m not going to stop going on about him until I get him back!”

Flowers stepped back, pulling a magnum from his hip holster. “Tucker, really, I admire your dedication. But if you don’t stop getting in my way—“

“Yeah yeah, you’re going to kill me. I ain’t scared of you, you bastard,” Tucker rolled his eyes. Now that Flowers had a gun out, Tucker would have to be cautious now. He had gotten good with sword, but he had to get rather close to use it.

“And Maranta too,” Flowers said, just loud enough for Tucker to hear. It might have been a shout from how it rang in his ears. “Though my partner is likely handling her effectively on his own.”

Tucker gritted his teeth. “So Wyoming’s here too? Who’s looking after Junior? I know you assholes lost Omega, so where. Is. My. Son?!”

“Ah, so you know Omega and Tex were stolen then?” Flowers hummed curiously. “That really did put a wrench in our plans. Of course we had a back up plan, but then Junior—“

A sudden explosion rocked the building, and both over the radio and down the hall, Tucker heard Maranta began to scream.

“Bait!” Tucker’s head whipped to look behind him, in the direction of Wyss’ office, but then Flowers was rapidly sprinting past him, almost shoving him in the process. “Hey! No! Get back here!!” And he took off after him.

The door to Wyss’ office had been blown clean off its hinges from the inside out, and the wall of windows had been smashed inwards. Tucker barely registered the white armour of Wyoming in one corner of the office, his gaze zeroing in on Maranta who was crawling out from underneath a smashed display case, and the absolutely massive hulking figure in advance power armour looming over her. His golden fishbowl helmet gave him an alien look, impossible to read, but he was definitely looking over Maranta, head cocked to the side. From his back magstrip, he pulled free a large, dangerous looking gun. It didn’t look like human weaponry at all, and had a wicked, curved blade on one end. Maranta was too dazed to noticed, trying to push herself up to her feet.

“HEY!” Tucker shouted, drawing the man’s attention with a snap of his head and a growl. “Get away from her!” He charged, sword raised, but if he thought Flowers hit hard, this guy was a whole other level. His fist collided with Tucker’s chest, and even through his armour Tucker felt something something _crunch_. He fell to the ground, pain blooming in his ribcage, but he had succeeded in drawing the man’s attention away from Maranta. He followed the turn of the helmet to were Flowers was helping Wyoming stand.

Flowers placed himself in front of Wyoming. “Agent Maine,” he said firmly, holding up a hand as if that alone could keep the giant at bay, “that’s enough. Surely you don’t need anymore A.I.”

Wyoming coughed. He had lost his helmet in the fight, and his face was so pale, almost grey, and one of his arms was hanging limply at his side. “That thing isn’t Maine,” he half groaned, half dry chuckled. “Not anymore.”

Tucker stood with a groan, watching this ‘Maine’ stalk towards Flowers and Wyoming. “We can’t let that thing kill them…!”

“Why not?” Maranta was holding a hand to her head. Tucker couldn’t see any damage to her helmet, but it worried him still.

“Because if they die, we’ll never find Junior!”

“Shit..!” Maranta scrambled for a broken piece of rubble and chucked it at Maine’s head. “Hey baldy! Over here!”

It bounced squarely off the top of his helmet, and he spun on the spot, immediately firing upon where Maranta was standing. She barely dropped to the ground in time as the projectile sailed over her head and out the broken window. It smashed into a nearby building and exploded upon impact.

“Holy crap, it’s a _grenade launcher?!_ ” Tucker’s jaw dropped. Just what was that thing, and who the hell was Maine?!

The was a bang and Maine stumbled forward, revealing Flowers behind him, smoking magnum raised. “I’m sorry Agent Maine, but—“

Maine shrugged off the bullet, and he turned with a slash of his blade, cutting Flowers open across the chest.

Flowers went down in a spray of blood, dropping like a stone.

“Butch!” Wyoming was down by his side immediately, desperately trying to lift him with his one working arm, while Maine stood above him, reaching for Wyoming.

Tucker jumped forward, putting himself between Wyoming and Maine, his sword coming to life with a swish and nicking Maine’s chest plate. He was loath to protect Wyoming and Flowers, but until he knew where Junior was, they couldn’t die. He jabbed forward, forcing Maine to take a step backwards, a strange, gurgling growl coming from his throat.

“We’re getting out of here,” he heard Wyoming say as he continued to force Maine to step backwards.

“But the mission—“ Tucker slashed again, and Maine snarled at him, almost getting past his swing to land another punch.

“Is a failure,” Wyoming said sternly. “Protecting Project assets is more important Evac is already here.” His voice was further away, and Tucker glanced over just in time to see Wyoming and Flowers drop from the busted window.

He shouted, turning on his heel and rushing towards the window’s edge. A Pelican began to rise, Wyoming and Flowers on the still open ramp. His chance to get information on Junior was getting away! If he jumped now, he might just make it—“

“Lavernius!” Maranta’s panicked cry forced him to come to a skidding stop, sending bits of glass and smashed concrete flying. Turning, he saw Maranta backed up as far as she could go, open sky behind her, her pistol raised and pointing at Maine who was now stalking towards her. She fired twice, bullets lodging in his shoulders, but it didn’t slow him down. He barely even winced.

Even though it would cost him knowledge of Junior’s whereabouts, Tucker didn’t even hesitate as he sprinted across the room at full speed. “Don’t fucking touch her!” He slashed across Maine’s back, cutting deep into the white armour. It sparked, causing Maine to stumble .

He tried to stand up straight, but his armour continued to spark, slowing him as parts began to smoke. With a growl, Maine _launched_ himself out window, smashing into a nearby brick wall. He slowed his decent with his hands and feet, ripping up brick as he went.

Tucker and Maranta stood there among the smashed glass, concrete, and wood, panting heavily, with Maranta clutching her head with both her hands. Behind him, Tucker could hear the Pelican, and Wyoming and Flowers, getting further away, and with them, Tucker’s hopes to find Junior any time soon.

A balding man popped up from behind the flipped desk, eyes wide. “You saved my life…!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not their best day ever.


	5. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to wait a week before posting this but I'm too excited, it came out SO GOOD!

The extra cash in their pockets was doing nothing for Tucker’s mood now that he was back on _Lucidity,_ healing from the other day’s ordeals. No amount of money was going to get back his missed opportunity of getting information on Junior.

At least he knew they were on this planet, now. As far as he could tell, monitoring radio chatter and watching which ships came and left, they hadn’t left Thirus’ port yet. Of course, if that Pelican left Thirus from way out in the wilderness, there was nothing he could do about that. He’d just have to hope he could stay on their trail.

His mood was made _considerably_ worse with how Maranta was acting as well. She had been not stopped complaining about Wyoming since returning from the job. Tucker’s only respite had been the brief, few hours of sleep he could manage when his painkillers kicked in.

She was at it again that grey sky morning while he was working on his notes on Sangheili languages. _Trying_ to work, that was. It was hard to focus on the nuances of Sangheili grammar and syntax when all he could hear was Maranta fussing.

“I just don’t understand how!” She huffed as she practically threw herself into her chair, pulling her laptop towards her. “Even if Dad did a bit of contract work with PFL, that doesn’t explain how Wyoming knew my Dad so intimately. Or _me_ for that matter!” She made face, screwing up her nose like she smelled something gross. “I am tired of hearing my name in a smarmy, British accent. ‘ _Elizabeth’_ , urg!” She tried to mock his accent, but it was a little weak. “Calling Dad and I ‘shortsighted’ and ‘weak willed’, how dare he!”

Tucker gritted his teeth, mumbling, “uhhuh,” as he tried to ignore her.

“Dad was _not_ a coward, and I’m going to wipe that smug look off his face next time I see him…!” Maranta began to type angrily, tapping the keys with an excessive amount of force. “‘Coward’ my ass…!”

He just couldn’t take it anymore, not another word. Tucker sat up straight, turning to face her. “Bethli could you just… stop, please?”

Maranta’s mouth fell opened as she returned his look, stunned. “Excuse me?”

Now that he had started, he found her couldn’t stop. “Like, I get it, you don’t like Wyoming. I’m trying to work, and I can’t with all of your bitching.”

It took Maranta a full half a minute to respond, staring at Tucker with her mouth agape. She bristled, face cheeks tinting red. “Well I’m sorry for being upset after being ridiculed and mocked!” She looked back to her laptop with a dramatic flip of her hair. “Guess it was too much to hope for some sympathy.”

Tucker snorted. “Yeah, okay, same here Bethli. Instead, I’m been listening to you complain for the last three days, rather than doing anything productive.”

Maranta’s eyes snapped back to him. “I haven’t been doing nothing,” she retorted angrily. “Do you really think I’m going to let Wyoming escape before I know exactly what his relation to my Da—“

Tucker stood up so violently that he knocked his over, and slammed his hands down on the desk. “God _damn_ it Bethli, would you shut up about your dad!” He turned to face her, looming over her as she pulled back, eyes wide. “In case you’ve forgotten, what we’re supposed to be focused on is rescuing Junior! You know, _my son_?”

“I never said otherwise!” Maranta snapped back, bouncing up out of her chair. “I care about Junior, too, you know!”

“It doesn’t seem like it, the way you’re constantly going on about Wyoming and your dad this, and Wyoming and your dad that!” Tucker scowled, gesturing at her with his hands.

“I need to know—“

“You dad is **dead** , Bethli!”

Maranta shut her mouth with a snap. She looked away from him, bit her lip, opened her mouth, closed it again. Without a sound, she closed her laptop, grabbed her shoes, and left.

Heart hammering in his ears, Tucker bent over to pick up his chair. All he had wanted was some peace and quiet, not a damn fight.

Well, at least with her storming out he got his wish. Maybe he could actually get some work done.

—

By late afternoon, the grey skies had begun to rain, a steady, heavy fall that Tucker could hear pittering on _Lucidity’s_ metal roof. Normally, he found the sound to be kind of soothing, but he was growing increasingly worried and distracted as time ticked by.

Maranta still hadn’t come back, even thought it had been hours now. It wasn’t storming out, but she hadn’t taken any sort of jacket or umbrella with her. Hell she had gone out in her sneakers!

Tucker absentmindedly fiddled with the peeling edge of a sticker Maranta had stuck to their desk. Alright, so maybe he had been a little harsh earlier. It was just hard for him to worry about her dad when Junior was weighing so heavily on his mind. Though, maybe, he could have explained that rather than screaming about the fact the man was dead. It just felt like she cared more about the past than Junior!

_‘I care about Junior, too, you know!’_

Tucker glanced at her laptop, groaning softly under his breath. That wasn’t fair, was it? The day Junior had been taken, Maranta had risked her life to keep him safe, to get him back, and got hurt as fuck in the process. And yet, she never blamed anyone but Flowers for her knee injury. Of course she cared for Junior.

He froze suddenly, eyes widening. What if that’s why she wasn’t back yet? Was she attempting to go rescue Junior? She wasn’t even in her armour!!

“Shit!” Scrambling, Tucker ignored the painful throbbing in his ribs and stood, grabbing his sword. He barely paused long enough to put on his boots, and skipped armour entirely. He didn’t have time if she was in trouble! He dashed out of _Lucidity_ and into the rain.

Luckily, Port Thirus wasn’t very large, and Maranta a distinct enough of a person— how many other short cuties with round faces, auburn hair, and freckles could there be on Thirus— that it didn’t take Tucker long to track her down to a small city park.

She wasn’t confronting Flowers and Wyoming, thankfully, and he almost missed her in the rain and dying daylight. She was about halfway up a tree, swinging her legs back and forth, her hair plastered to the side of her head from the rain.

“Bethli? Bethli!” Tucker called up the tree at her, relief flooding his bones. “There you are!”

“Huh?” Maranta looked down at him, blinking. “I- oh, Lavernius…” Her shoulders hiked up around her ears, making her look small. “You came to find me…?”

“Uh, yeah I did!” Tucker gestured around him and up at the sky. “It’s pouring out, and you’ve been gone for hours!”

“Yeah I—“ she rubbed at an eye with her free hand that wasn’t holding the tree. “I just needed some space.” She sounded so _tired._

He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “Well do you, uh, still need space? Cause I can keep out of your hair, on the ship, so you can be someplace dry.”

“You- you want me to come back?” Maranta choked, bringing her fist up to her mouth and biting down on a knuckle.

“Wha- of course I fucking do!” Tucker startled as she put her head in her hands and began to sob, shoulders shaking with the movement. “Whoa, holy shit! Uh,” he floundered, unsure how to fix this, exactly. “Are you okay?”

She sobbed something completely unintelligible into her hands, muffled.

In all the time he had known her, Tucker had never seen Maranta cry before. Sure, she got misty once or twice when she was in pain, or when that show ended on a really bitter sweet note, but not _cry_. At a loss, Tucker ran both his hands over his head. “Li-listen, come down, and we can talk this shit out.”

Maranta nodded and slid down from the branch she was on, landing on the ground with a wet squelch, almost stumbling and falling.

“I’ve been an _asshole!_ ” She could only get the single sentence out before breaking down into sobs again.

Guilt stabbed him like white hot iron. “I haven’t exactly been a peach either,” Tucker admitted, unable to look her in the face.

“B-but you were right!” She rubbed at her face, vainly trying to wipe her tears away. “This is _Junior_ we’re talking about, he should absolutely be my focus!”

He winced, keeping his gaze fixed to that spot above her head. “Still, I shouldn’t have—“ he began to apologize, but Maranta cut him off with a shake of her head.

“Junior should be my priority too! Because I care about him, too, and when Flowers- when Flowers took him- I-I-I—!” She hiccoughed, face scrunching up. “I love him too, I’m sorry I _ever_ made you think otherwise!”

Tucker’s mouth fell open, his eyes dropping down to her face.

She loved Junior. Of course she did! She had travelled across the galaxy, leaving behind Blood Gulch and a steady paycheque, risking her life for him when no one else would help Tucker. Even with her personal vendetta against Wyoming, she had made it clear from the beginning that she was just as dedicated to Junior as Tucker was.

A strange warmth began to blossom in his chest as he stared, frozen. Maranta had sacrificed so much for Junior, for _him_ , and no matter how dicey things go, she was there. Even after Tucker had made a complete ass of himself, she was _still_ here.

He was the luckiest damn man in the entire damn universe, and he had accused her of not caring.

Swept up in the feeling, not at all caring that they were in public, or that they were soaked from the rain, or that she was muddy from landing on the ground, Tucker pulled Maranta towards him and wrapped his arms around her. She fit there perfectly, tucked under his chin, arms up against his chest. She stopped sobbing quite so hard, though she was shaking still, and Tucker squished her a little closer.

For a moment they stood there, embraced, not a soul but them. “I know,” Tucker choked, “I know you care. I— I’m sorry I said you didn’t. That was a dick move, and I shouldn’t have.”

Maranta made a small noise, burying her face into his shoulder. He held her another long moment, almost rocking on the spot, before finally pulling apart. He kept his hands on her, though, gently holding her shoulders. “Let’s head back to _Lucidity,_ ” he said softly. “Get you out of this rain. I’ll make us some hot chocolate, and we can talk things out, okay?”

Once again trying to wipe her eyes free of tears, Maranta nodded.

—

_Lucidity_ was all the warmer when compared to outside, and changing out of their wet clothing and into cozy pjs only helped that. Tucker handed Maranta her hug of hot chocolate before sitting next to her on the edge of her bed, a cup of his own hot chocolate in hand. “Alright,” he said, giving her a gentle elbow nudge as she stared into her mug, “talk away.”

She fiddled with her mug, turning it slowly in her hands. “I… I’m sorry I was a jerk about—“

“Ah ah,” Tucker shook his head, “we already talked about that, I forgave you, I know you care about Junior. I also know that whatever Wyoming said to you the other day has you you way more upset than what he had said back in Blood Gulch, and I figure you need to talk about that. So talk.”

Maranta nodded slowly, taking a careful sip. “I was trying to get Wyoming to tell me about what kind of contract work Dad would have done, needle it out of him somehow. I was thinking, if I knew what work Dad did, I could work out how Wyoming would have known him so well.” She took a deeper sip of her drink as Tucker nodded, listening intently. As she pulled her mug away, he saw her fingers tighten on the porcelain. “And he… he laughed. He laughed and said,’Honestly I think we payed poker more often than we worked!’”. Her knuckles began to turn white from how hard she was clutching her mug. “My Dad played poker with his _friends_. So, meaning, when he was doing work for PFL, he saw Wyoming as a friend. Maybe he didn’t see anything wrong with Freelancer.” She looked up, eyes staring but not really seeing. “Maybe he would have agreed with kidnapping and brainwashing Junior.” She took a shuddery breath and bit down on her lip. “I just…. I dunno…”

Tucker thought it over for a moment, looking down at his own cup and watching the marshmallows slowly melt. “You’re scared you didn’t know your dad as well as you thought,” he surmised, looking up at her.

Maranta nodded slowly, bottom lip trembling, but didn’t say anything.

“Well first of all,” Tucker leaned back on one hand, “that was years ago, and maybe the project was less shitty then,” he reasoned. “Secondly, maybe your dad didn’t know what a complete and total _dick_ Wyoming is. I’ve known a few people who turned out to be grade A assholes, but it took me awhile to find out.” He adjusted his his weight and, after a moment’s hesitation, clapped her shoulder. “So I wouldn’t give up on your dad being a great guy yet. He raised you after all!”

Maranta glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Thank you,” she said in a small quiet voice.

“Seriously,” Tucker continued, “if I had the chance to have met him, I would have told him, ‘Sir, you raised an amazing, and may I say, _fine_ young lady.’”.

“Lavernius…” She tried to sound annoyed, but she was foiled by the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Of course, I’m sure Momma Maranta had a hand in it too…” He grinned as Maranta began to shake her head, smile spreading.

“You are in sufferable!” She laughed now, whacking at him repeatedly with her free hand.

Tucker was laughing with her, lifting her cup out of harms way. “Careful! You’re going to spill my drink!”

Maranta’s laughter died down to giggles, and then those became a soft smile as she met Tucker’s gaze. Suddenly, she leaned into his side, ducking under his raised arms, resting her head against his neck and collarbone. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For putting up with me.”

That wonderful warmth bloomed in his chest again, and Tucker swallowed thickly. “Of course,” he said, unsure if he should wrap his arms around her or not.

They stayed like that until Maranta was practically falling asleep against him. They exchanged goodnights, Maranta’s quite sleepy, and Tucker moved to his bed.

Problem was, he couldn’t sleep, now with that soft, warm glow in his chest. Maranta was the cause, he knew that much, but he was at a loss about what to do about it. Normally, when he was trying to figure out if he was interested or _interested_ interested in a chick, he’d masturbate while thinking about her. Since Maranta’s bed was three feet away from his, that wasn’t exactly something he could do.

So, closing his eyes and listening to the soft pitter patter of rain falling, Tucker imagined what it would be like to kiss Maranta.

He pictured, instead of hugging her in the rain, putting a hand on her chin and tilting her head up. Pressing his lips to hers and how soft hers would be. Holding her by the waist and gently pulling her closer.

When that warm feeling spread all the way from the tip of his nose down to the soles of his feet, Tucker knew he was a goner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone's got a cruuuuuush~


	6. Falling for the First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2020 continues to be a shit year for me on both a global and personal level. Writing this silly cute fluffy chapter was a great distraction. Enjoy!

Tucker was normally the second out of bed in the morning by a good hour, too cozy to give up the warmth of his covers, but these last few days, he was too floaty-floaty to stay asleep, waking with Maranta as she rolled out of bed around 8 in the morning. He found himself just… watching her, distracted, as she went about getting ready.

Had she always been so bright eyed and awake without the need for coffee or tea? How long had she been humming that lullaby that was now stuck in his head? She took her tea sweet, with lots of milk. When she had toast, she put a layer of butter, then peanut butter, then _another_ layer of butter on it.

It was almost infuriating. It wasn’t like anything had changed! He knew she was annoyingly perky in the morning, sang, drank tea, and ate toast!

It was just… When he paid attention, like really focused, he found himself _liking_ these things. It made him smile, albeit sleepily, when she’d stretch and run her hands through her hair, wishing him a chipper good morning. She caught him humming one of her songs, and the way she beamed at him made him feel like all he had eaten for dinner were butterflies. He was getting up early with her so he’d have time to eat with her.

So he could spend time with her.

But beneath all the gushy feelings and butterflies was a worry. Namely, the worry of when he would fuck this up.

Because he _would_ fuck this up, somehow, eventually, he was certain. He’d never admit it out loud, but for all his posturing Tucker wasn’t that good with girls. Rather, he wasn’t good with girls he actually _cared_ about. Hitting on a hot lady he barely knew, maybe making out, or more if she was into that, that was one thing, but dating? A relationship with someone he was close to?

That kinda terrified him.

And the idea of hurting Maranta when he inevitably screwed up? That terrified him even more.

As such, the last few days had been a whirlwind of emotions, rapidly alternating between giddy highs and anxious lows. That morning, the anxiety was winning as he stared into his coffee mug, watching the milk swirl into a vague ‘FK’ shape.

A plate with buttered toast and a fried egg was set in front of him. Tucker blinked. “What’s this?” He looked up at Maranta, who was busying herself in front of the toaster.

“Breakfast,” she shrugged. “What’s it look like?”

“Okay, yeah, I can see that,” he huffed, “but you never make breakfast to share.” He looked back at his plate, baffled. When had she figured out how he liked his eggs? A lucky guess?

“I’ve said most breakfast type foods don’t interest me,” she said, tapping her foot and drumming her fingers on the counter as she waited for her toast to pop. “I’m not gunna spend the time making a big breakfast.” She looked over her shoulder and pointed at his plate. “ _That_ is not a big breakfast. That’s an egg and toast for my friend who’s been staring into his coffee for nearly 20 minutes.”

Tucker snorted and glanced at the kitchen clock. “Come on, it hasn’t been 20… minutes…” he trailed off. The clock read 8:27. Jesus, what was wrong with him?

Maranta turned to face him, leaning back against the counter. “Exactly. So what’s up? Are you feeling sick?”

“Naw.” Tucker stabbed his egg, watching the yolk run. “Just got a lot on my mind is all.”

He could see her shuffling from the corner of his eye. “Are you thinking about Junior?”

He froze, folk halfway to his mouth. He actually hadn’t been, distracted as he was, but the moment Junior was mentioned he became Tucker’s focus, the high string anxiety giving away to the deep dread that he often felt these days. He lowered his fork, unwilling to lie, but unwilling to tell Maranta what had been bothering him up until that point.

He heard Maranta sighed softly, and forcibly pop her toast. Then she was sitting next to him, one of her hands near his own. It flexed, as if to grab his, but she pressed it flat against the table.

“If you need to talk, I’m here, okay?” Her voice was soft, and her smile gentle. “Or, if you don’t want to talk, I can keep quiet company with you, so you’re not alone.”

Tucker smiled back at her, a flicker of warmth spreading in his chest, a tiny flame pushing back against the darkness.

—

Trying to find the word ‘sorry’ in the only known dialect of Sangheili known thus far to the general public was proving to be a lesson in frustration. Turns out the Covenant wasn’t in the business of apologizing to humanity. Tucker grumbled, closing yet another unhelpful web document. Lots of threats, blood, and gore, not so much of the apologizing and forgiving.

He slumped back in his chair, hooking his hands behind his head with a sigh. He had almost completed his notes on most of what he wanted to say. He was just missing a few key ‘soft words’, as he called them. If he couldn’t figure them out… Well, he wasn’t sure what’d he do.

Tucker’s mind drifted to Junior, and he bit down on his lip. These days, he was plagued less by thoughts of where Junior could be. These days, a quiet voice in the back of his mind asked different questions.

What if… Junior didn’t want to come back with him?

What if Junior was mad at him?

What if Junior didn’t forgive him?

What if Junior _hated_ him?

These questions, and more, barely had time to settle into his mind before he was abruptly brought back to the present by _Lucidity’s_ ramp opening and Maranta charging up into the living room.

“Lavernius!” She was bouncing, unable to sit still as she approached. “Ooh, good you’re here!” The shopping bags that hung from her arm swayed as she gestured. “Are you busy right now?”

“Uh,” Tucker unlinked his hands and sat forward. “Not really. I’ve hit a bit of a wall. Why?”

Maranta giggled. “Good! I mean, not good that you’ve hit a wall, but good that you’re free.” She held up her hands, palms out. “Just wait here, I’ve got something to show you.” And she skipped away before Tucker could ask.

He blinked, staring at the spot she previously occupied. “Okay?”

She returned only a few moments later, having changed. He recognized her top, but instead of the brown skirt she was wearing before she had—

“An olive drab skirt with suspenders!” Maranta spun on the spot, arms up by her head, allowing the skirt to flow around her, unfurling like the petals of a flower. She came to a stop, laughing breathlessly, and posed with her hands behind her back.

“Well,” she asked brightly, beaming, “what do you think?”

Between her shining eyes, flushed cheeks, and the way the skirt hugged her waist, Tucker rather felt like he had been hit over the head with a brick. Or maybe a sack of them.

“Uh,” he flustered, words caught in his throat. She was _fucking adorable_ but he couldn’t just tell her that!

Her face fell when he didn’t answer immediately. “Is there something wrong with it?” She glanced over her shoulder, inspecting the back of the skirt.

_Speak, moron!_

“No!” Tucker spoke so quickly that he almost choked on his own spit. “I mean,” he coughed, “no, there’s nothing wrong with it. You look _amazing_.” He flustered immediately again. “On you! Th-the skirt. It looks amazing. On you.”

Smooth as fucking gravel.

A curious look passed over Maranta’s face, almost too quick to spot, then she smiled. “Thanks,” she laughed, twisting her hips so that the skirt flared again. “Used some of that bonus cash from the Wyss job. Might as well treat myself.”

He found himself distracted by the movement of her hips before he quickly snapped his eyes back up to her face. “Right,” he nodded, trying to bring his head back out from the clouds. “And after a job like that, you deserve it.”

She beamed at him. “Thanks, she said again. “I’ll let you get back to work. Give me a shout if you need anything, yeah?” With a little wave, she bounced off to the kitchen, presumably to put the rest of the groceries away.

Tucker watched her go, mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah,” he licked his lips. “Will do.”

—

The next evening as Tucker returned to _Lucidity_ , the smell that greeted him as he stepped inside wasn’t the usual stale air he had come to associate with the inside of the ship. Instead it was heavily spiced, some recognizable, others foreign to his nose. He rounded into the kitchen, curious, and stumbled into barely organized chaos.

A big, heavy pot sat on the stove top, filling _Lucidity_ with steam and delicious aromas. Dishes piled in the sink and drying rack. Leftover bits of food prep littered the counter. And at the centre of it all, in a flowery apron, stood Maranta. She was leaning over the pot, stirring carefully.

Tucker pulled off his coat and tossed it onto his chair. “Damn Bethli,” he laughed, “you’ve been busy!”

Maranta jumped up, standing straight, wooden spoon clutched tightly in her hand. “You’re back! I didn’t hear you come in.” She set the spoon down and turned to face him. “Any luck finding anything?”

“No.” Tucker grumbled sourly and collapsed into his chair. “Not a sign of Wyoming or Flowers. But there hasn’t been any sign of them leaving, either.”

Maranta smiled at him. “That’s something at least. We’ll find something soon, I’m sure.”

That boundless optimism was another thing of Maranta’s that Tucker was appreciative of, especially as of late. Kept him from losing hope.

He watched as she took a dinner spoon and dipped it into the pot, tasting it with a quizzical look on her face. “Ooh!” She quickly pulled it away, licking her lips. “Spicy. Hey, Lavernius, can you tell me what you think of this?”

“Sure,” Tucker nodded, standing and walking over.

Rather than just handing him the spoon, Maranta dipped it into the pot again and held it up to his mouth. “Say ‘aah’,” she giggled playfully.

Tucker accepted the spoonful, feeling his face heat up for reasons completely unrelated to the spicy dish.

It _was_ pretty hot, however. “Woo,” he breathed, feeling his nostrils burn. “What is that?”

“My Dad’s rogan josh,” Maranta hummed. “He got the recipe from a coworker.” She set the spoon down and plucked up her datapad. “I don’t remember it being this spicy though- oh.” She paused. “I misread this. Seems I’ve accidentally _tripled_ the chilli powder. It wanted _teaspoons,_ not _tablespoons_.”

Tucker couldn’t help his startled laugh. “That’s an impressive mistake, even for you.”

“Oh hush,” Maranta gave him a light shove. “I think I can balance this out… unless you don’t mind?”

“You can leave it if that’s easier,” he shrugged. “I can take a little heat.”

Maranta smiled. “Oh good. Yes, that is easier,” she laughed, turning back to the pot to continue cooking. “Thanks for being my test subject.”

Tucker shook his head as he watched her flit about the kitchen. He could take a lot more heat, if it was for her, but _she_ made him feel like he was on fire, and he didn’t know how to handle _that_.

——

Tucker’s eyes flew open as he jerked awake, heart hammering in his chest. In the darkness, he could still see the fading images from his nightmare, Junior’s lifeless eyes staring accusingly at him. He sat up in bed, untangling himself from his sheets, and pushed his hair back from his eyes.

“Shit,” he breathed, voice shaking.

He heard rustling, and the ever light sleeper Maranta was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. “Lavernius…?” She asked sleepily.

Tucker closed his eyes, guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…”

He couldn’t quite hide the tremble in his voice, and Maranta picked right up on that. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and leaned closer. “Are you alright?” Her voice was soft, and though he could barely make her out in the dark, he could perfectly picture the look on her face. Eyes wide, brows raised and knotted together, and a frown tugging at her lips.

There was no point in lying to her. He shook his head. “Not at all.”

There was a pause, and he could imagine her pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“ _Fuck_ no,” Tucker choked quietly. He knew that trying to focus on the hazy dream would just burn the memories into his brain.

Another pause. “Do you want to be alone?”

He swallowed. “ _No,_ ” he whispered.

There was the creaking of springs as Maranta stood, then the soft _pat pat_ of her bare feet as she walked over. She sat down beside him, leaning against his side, her fuzzy PJs soft on his bare skin.

“I”m here,” she told him softly, head on his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

Tucker didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

They sat like that until it was too hard to stay sitting up. Maranta wiggled them both into a laying position, whispering, “platonic cuddles,” as she pulled the blankets over them both. Tucker’s last thoughts before sleep claimed him was the resolve that he had to do whatever he could to not fuck this up with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone gets the "FK... in the coffee!" reference, I will be so pleased.


	7. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! The next chapter a week later! Will I be able to do this again next week? LET'S FIND OUT!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. I certainly did writing it c:

“I have proof that Wyoming and Flowers are still on Thirus,” Maranta announced that afternoon as she marched into the living room, “and I know how to find them.”

Tucker practically threw his book down as he leapt up to his feet. “You do?!” His heart hammered in his chest like it was about to burst. “How?”

She held her datapad out towards him, displaying a slightly blurry picture of the massive man in white armour known as Agent Maine. “This guy,” she tapped the screen, “is still being spotted all over Thirus. Remember how Flowers said he was after A.I.?”

“Uh.” He had to think for a moment. At the time, his emotions had been rather high, muddling his memories of the events. “Right,” he nodded. “Flowers was protecting Wyoming from him, probably to stop him from getting Gary or Gamma, whatever he was called.”

“Yes!” Maranta beamed at him. “So, if this Maine guy is still on Thirus, and he’s after Gamma, then it’s likely that Wyoming, Flowers, _and_ Junior are too!”

For a moment, Tucker stared, mouth agape. Then he stepped over to her, picked her up, spun around, plopped her back down, and hugged her, laughing all the while.

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed, pulling back and holding her by her shoulders. “Bethli, you’re a genius!”

She swayed slightly, her cheeks a light pink. “Oh, my gosh,” she giggled. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you!” Tucker insisted, shaking his head. “Seriously, I could kiss you right now.”

Her blush deepened, and she bit her lip shyly. “Lavernius…”

‘ _Shit.’_

Tucker quickly released her. “Not that I’m going to,” he flustered. “Just, uh, a figure of speech, you know?”

Maranta cleared her throat. “Oh, right! Right.”

 _‘You’re such a moron,’_ he chastised himself. “So, um, where do we start? Finding them, I mean.”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well,” she turned the datapad back towards herself, “after the attack on the Charon building, I’ve seen a few articles about other incidents. What caught my eye was a news feed from this morning, though.” She gestured for him to come closer.

He walked up beside her, looking down. The screen displayed, in bright, bold letters, the title, “ **OLD WAREHOUSE RANSACKED.** ” The photo was that of a decaying rust heap, similar to the factory they first searched.

“The other places seemed like high security buildings, possibly other jobs Wyoming and Flowers did. But this?” Maranta tapped the screen. “This looks like a hiding place to me.”

“It does,” Tucker agreed slowly, “but if Maine already attacked them, they probably already left.”

“But they would have left in a hurry,” she countered, “and could have left things behind, unlike the factory.”

Tucker nodded. It was a lead, at the very least, and a strong one at that. “Then we should armour up before the trail gets cold.”

He hoped that, this time, they’d find something.

——

The article’s pictures did not prepare Tucker for the state of destruction the warehouse was in. In addition to the wear of time, the building was freshly smashed. Windows blown out, burns from explosions, twisted metal walls, and general rubble. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly as he picked across the rough ground, ducking under a ‘DO NOT CROSS’ caution tape.

Which was worse? Junior not being there, or Junior hurt, trapped underneath broken metal and stone?

Maranta must have noticed his hesitation, and was by his side in a second. “Hey,” she said gently over the comms, “you holding up okay?”

Tucker took a breath. “Not really, but I’m not stopping now.”

Maranta bumped her hip against his and resumed point.

The inside was even worse than the outside, signs of battle and struggle throughout. For a moment Tucker worried that the destruction had been complete, and that there was no use searching. But as his eyes scanned the inside, he noticed a variety of boxes and bits and bobs that seemed out of place. Things left behind by those in a hurry.

“I’m not picking up anything on my motion tracker,” Maranta announced. “Wanna move in and split up?”

“Don’t stray too far, but yes,” Tucker nodded.

As Maranta made for the remains of a camp, Tucker looked towards a series of smashed containers. They lacked any markings or logos that would have tied them to the warehouse, or one of the business of Thirus, so he assumed they had once belonged to Flowers and Wyoming.

He picked through the remains, careful not to break anything more than it already was. He found loose ammo, spent casings, smooshed MREs, and even the remains of what might have been a datapad once.

“Hope what I’m looking for wasn’t on this,” he mumbled as he pushed it aside.

His hand nearly passed over a brown, rectangular object that he thought was wood, but the texture was too uniform, too soft. Perplexed, he picked it up.

“Holy shit.” Tucker turned it over in his hands. “Is this a journal?” The leather bound book was simply tied closed in a loose knit, easy to pull open.

“Hey Bait,” he called, “come here I found something.”

“Coming!” Maranta nearly tripped as she scurried over. “What is it? What did you find?”

Tucker held up the book. “Do either Wyoming or Flowers strike you as the type to journal?”

She put a hand to her chin. “Not sure about Wyoming, but Flowers is definitely a non-zero chance.”

He looked back down at the worn cover. “One way to find out, I guess.” As he pulled back the front flap, the first page was taken up entirely by a pen drawing of a daisy, done entirely in blue ink.

Tucker glanced up, meeting Maranta’s eyes. “Flowers,” they deadpanned simultaneously.

As his heart began to make the climb into his throat, Tucker flipped through the pages. The first date was from nearly six years ago, utterly useless to him. Some entries were within days of each other, sometimes months stretched between them. Maranta fidgeted beside him.

“Here!” He proclaimed as he came across an entry about two thirds through. “This is from two years ago!”

Maranta practically bounced on the spot. “What’s it say what’s it say?!”

Tucker began to read out loud.

_“There has been a rather unfortunate setback in our plan to use the Sword Child, ‘Junior’. We were attacked by Agent Maine, or the Meta as I’m told he goes by now, and only just managed to escape with Vyta'Rantak and the child. Reggie was able to keep Gamma safe for now, but both the Omega AI and Agent Texas were stolen.”_

“Stolen?” Maranta frowned as she echoed the word, head tilting to the side. “How could Tex be stolen?”

“I dunno,” Tucker shrugged, glancing over the rest of the entry. “It doesn’t say.”

She hummed, then shook her head. “We’ll have to figure that out later.”

She was right. Tucker began to skim over the journal, glancing over entries that mentioned Junior and outright skipping those that didn’t. As much as he wanted to take his time with this, to really study this in detail, to gain some understanding of these years of his son’s life, they didn’t have time right now. Wyoming and Flowers could return to clean up at any moment.

He was only a few pages away until the rest of the journal was blank, and was about to declare that Junior must still be with them, when the final entry made him pause, dated from only about a month ago. The first line read ‘Disaster’, and every word after that turned his blood to ice.

“No,” he whispered, hands beginning to shake.

“Vern?”

Tucker couldn’t tear his eyes away from those damned words. “They lost Junior.”

There was a crash, and a blip appeared on his motion tracker. He shoved the journal into a pouch on his thigh, turning towards the sound.

There, stumbling and struggling to stay upright, helmet missing, was Wyoming.

By the time Tucker had registered that, Maranta was already running full tilt in his direction. Wyoming turned just as she reached him and threw her entire body at him, sending them both flailing to the ground. With surprise on her side, she quickly gained the upper hand, slamming her fist across his jaw once, and stood while he was dazed, hauling him to his feet. She slammed him so hard into the wall that the sound reverberated through the entire warehouse. Finally, she shoved her pistol up under his chin, forcing his head up. As the dust settled, Tucker could hear her panting heavily over the comms.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little turned on.

Wyoming struggled weakly. Half his armour was damaged or missing, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. That clearly hadn’t been done by Maranta. Tucker leaned against a pile of crates, arms folded over his chest. “Well you look like shit. Lost a fight recently? How’s your pal, Gamma?”

Wyoming fixed him in a glare that wasn’t at all diminished by the fact he only had one working eye currently. “You think _Elittlebeth_ here would have been able to get the jump on me otherwise?”

Maranta jammed her pistol up higher with a growl. “Do _not_ call me that. Where’s Junior?”

Wyoming snorted. “What? Not going to ask me about _Daddy dearest_ this time?”

Maranta snarled and shook her head rapidly. “ _No_. I won’t let you distract me this time. So _tell me_ where Junior is!”

“You’re about a month too late,” Wyoming grunted, trying to pull his head away. “Sorry about that.”

He didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

Tucker held up Flowers’ journal. “You can either tell us what you know,” he said calmly, “or we can go through your boyfriend’s diary. I wonder what else we’ll find in here? Probably some real incriminating stuff.”

Wyoming scowled. “As far as we are aware,” he said reluctantly, “there is civil war brewing in the Covenant. After we arrived here, we were attacked by a group of Brutes. They killed our Elite allies and took your little _spawn_ alive.” His gaze shifted back to Maranta, coughing from the pressure of her gun to his throat. “That enough for you?”

“Not at all,” she shook her head. “Where did they take him?”

“And what,” Wyoming laughed, “makes you think _I_ know that?”

“Because you’re you,” Maranta huffed. “And I know you’re good at learning things other people don’t want you to know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And how you do know that, Elizabeth _dear_?”

From the corner of his eye, Tucker saw Maranta give the barest shake of her head, and her gip on Wyoming slackened. “I…”

“It’s not like we’ve been tracking you down for two years or anything,” Tucker drawled.

“Hmm, quite.” Wyoming rolled his good eye. “That doesn’t change the fact I don’t know. I heard mention of ‘ _Diawei_ ’, but I’ve no idea what that means. As I’ve already mentioned, that was a month ago.”

It was something, at least.

Wyoming huffed. “Now would you _please_ remove your pistol from my throat?”

“No,” Maranta said sharply, gaze snapping back to Wyoming, “because _now_ you’re going to answer my questions about Dad.”

“Oh, spiffing.”

Maranta squared up to Wyoming, adjusting her gip on his armour, and set her shoulders back. “My Dad,” she began, voice strong, “was a good person, a good soldier. How in the hell do you know so much about him, so intimately? Even if he did contract work through Freelancer, that doesn’t-“

“ _Contract work_?” Wyoming barked a surprised laugh. “Dearie me, two years chasing me down, and you haven’t learned anything, have you?” He sneered. “Lieutenant Colonel Oswald Maranta wasn’t _contracted_ into Project Freelancer. He was one of the officers brought on during its inception. Volunteered for the position.”

Tucker noticed the way Maranta stiffened, the tiniest tensing of her shoulders, and if it weren’t for the fact that both her hands were occupied, he would have taken one.

“My Dad,” her voice shook, “would never have agreed to work for such a shady—“

“Don’t go lying to yourself,” Wyoming laughed. “It’s unbecoming of a lady. Oswald was absolutely thrilled to be helping out with the project.”

Maranta shook her head. “But he—“

“When he and I were working together, which was quite often during the early days mind you,” he cut her off, “he’d often go on at length about the future of the project and what it could mean for the war effort. He and I got along quite well in that regard.” Wyoming’s eye took on a hard glint. “So, Elizabeth, when they came to inform you of Oswald’s _untimely_ demise, what did they tell you?”

“He died protecting his troops,” Maranta snarled. “He was a hero!”

“Did they now?” He laughed, shaking his head. “What a story! Would you like to know the truth?”

There was a shift in Wyoming’s voice, a poisonous cruelty that set Tucker on edge. “Stop it,” he demanded, stepping forward.

“ _No._ ” Wyoming did not take his eyes off Maranta. “She wants her answers so badly? Tell me, _little one_ , would you like to know what _really_ happened to Daddy?”

Maranta’s breathing was short and clipped, and Tucker saw her hand tighten on Wyoming’s breastplate.

“He interfered with our mission,” Wyoming continued. “Allowed the loss of highly valuable assets, all because of a… disagreement with my methods. So, when one of the project heads asked me to deal with him…”

He leaned forward, seemingly uncaring as he pushed his neck harder into Maranta’s pistol. “I killed him. Personally. And I made sure he knew _exactly_ why.”

Maranta said nothing. Maranta did nothing. Tucker couldn’t even hear her breathing. He felt his blood boil. “You sick fuck…!”

Wyoming ignored him. “He tried to appeal to my sense of justice, you know. Then our friendship!” He chortled, like it was some joke. “And when those failed? He _begged_. Didn’t I remember that his darling wife was ill? That his two younger daughters had only seen him a handful of times in their lives? And that _dear, little Elizabeth_ struggled with self harm and suicidal—“

He cut off with a loud choke as Maranta shoved up harder into his throat. “Shut. Up.” Her voice was ragged, broken. “Just shut up. Do you have _any_ idea what losing Dad did to my family?!”

Even if he wanted to respond, Wyoming was unable, his one working eye bulging slightly as Maranta choked him. She didn’t even seem to notice.

“Bait,” Tucker looked at her, trying in vain to get her attention. He had never seen her like this…

“Mum stopped eating! Nicole was barely able to finish college, and Elayne had to drop out of her classes!” Tucker recognized the sound of Maranta’s sob over the radio. “It took _everything_ I had to keep things from falling apart!”

“ _Bait,_ ” Tucker tried again. Wyoming’s face was turning purple.

“You nearly stole my whole family from me _you son of a bitch!”_ She adjusted her grip on her gun, finger pressing against the trigger.

“ _Elizabeth,_ stop!” Tucker’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling it back just enough so that Wyoming could gasp for air. In that moment, the gun fired, bullet pinging off somewhere on the roof above.

Maranta’s head whipped to face his. “Stop? STOP?!” Her voice peaked, radio crackling. “This _monster_ murdered my Dad!”

“And he kidnapped my son! I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it,” he glared at Wyoming, “but this?” He gestured. “Killing someone unable to fight back? This isn’t you, Bethli.”

He wasn’t sure why, but a part of him _knew_ that if Maranta killed Wyoming like this…

He’d lose her. Forever.

For a moment they stood there, silence only broken by the choked breathing of Wyoming. Then Maranta slowly looked back at him.

“Dad,” she breathed, “ was a better soldier, a better _person_ , than you’ll _ever_ be.” She pulled off him, and he collapsed to the ground, groaning. “If I ever see you stupid, smug face again,” she slammed her pistol into its holster, “I _will_ kill you.”

From the ground, Wyoming muttered something too softly to hear, rubbing his throat.

Tucker reached for Maranta’s arm, tugging her away. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmured via private comms.

Maranta took a shuddering breath. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

He dropped his hand into hers and gave it a squeeze.

He pulled her along, Maranta falling eerily silent behind him, and he had absolutely no plans on stopping before they got back to _Lucidity_. But as he pushed past a door blown off its hinges, a figure in blue seemingly melted out from the shadows and stepped in front of them, blocking the exit out of the warehouse.

“Tucker, Elizabeth!” Flowers waved cheerily. “So good to see you again.”

Tucker took a half step in front of Maranta protectively, hairs on his neck standing on end. “The feeling is _not_ mutual,” he snarled. Maranta’s grip on his hand tightened.

Flowers tutted. “Still so hostile. Well, lucky for you two, I’m here to take care of my horribly injured partner, so I really don’t have time to chat today. But!” He held out his hand towards Tucker expectantly. “I will be taking my journal back now.” His voice was bright and breezy, but it still made Tucker nervous.

He frowned and glanced at the soft pouch on his thigh. There was still so much more left he wanted to read, but with the information Wyoming had given, they didn’t _need_ it anymore. Frankly, at the moment, he was more concerned about getting Maranta home, _now_. He pulled it free and handed it to Flowers.

Flowers grabbed it, _and_ Tucker’s hand in a vice like grip. “Lucky, too,” he continued brightly, “that you stopped Elizabeth here from killing Reggie. Would have been _very_ messy for you two otherwise.” He turned his head in her direction, cocked to the side, a smile in his voice, and Tucker saw the threat for what it was. “Always a feisty one, aren’t you?”

Maranta said nothing, staring dead ahead.

Tucker snatched his hand back and shoved past Flowers, quickly pulling Maranta behind him.

Flowers’ deceptively friendly laughter followed.

——

Maranta was so utterly despondent by the time they got to _Lucidity_ that Tucker actually had to help her out of her armour. Seeing that she was just standing there, arms limp at her side, once his own was stored away he stepped up to her, pulling her helmet free from her head. Her tear stained cheeks and red and blotchy face made his heart ache for her. “Bethli…” He murmured softly, almost brushing one of his hands over her cheek.

As he helped her free from her boots, letting her brace on his shoulder, he heard her give shuddering sob above him. He glanced up to see fresh tears falling down her face.

“It’s like he’s gone all over again,” was all she could say before her voice quivered and broke.

Tucker wanted to hold her, to cup her face and make it all okay, but he knew what a meaningless gesture that would be. Instead, he just gave her a sympathetic look as he stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine…”

She simply shook her head and pushed past him. Tucker followed, and watched as she nearly collapsed onto her bed, not even bothering to remove her kevlar under suit. It made him wince. Maranta didn’t even like wearing jeans, so for her not to be changing as fast as she could…

He came up on the other side of her bed, behind her as she rolled to face the wall. “Look, I…” he hesitated. “I don’t know how best to help here, but if you need to talk, or not, if you just need… I’m here for you, okay?”

He pulled her blanket up over her, and she gripped it with a hand, almost hiding under it. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, about how much she meant to him.

“Goodnight, Bethli. I… goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Tucker hadn't stopped Maranta, Flowers would have killed them both. Slowly.
> 
> This scene has existed in my head for some time now, and to finally have it written out for people to see? I'm just so happy right now. I can't wait to hear what you think of it! :D


End file.
